Mass Effect: Glorious Shotgun Princess
by Gregg Landsman
Summary: The Exaltation of the Unconquered Sun is a tricky thing. Especially when it doesn't come with an manual. Jane Shepard, who was able to talk Spectres into suicide before getting a spiritual superweapon grafted to her soul, has a new advantage.
1. A Sun Beating Upon a Frozen World

The towers stretch into the sky. Gleaming spires of purple and silver, a singular monument to ambition, ego, and a lustful hunger for pure, material power. A single bridge connects them, high up, winds whipping the cables and connectors. It is a glorious tower, a mountain of majesty. A singular, towering spire.

"I could jump that." Testing her knees, the human woman with shoulder length red hair, clad in white, sectioned armor rolls her neck, and turns to her companions.

The turian twitches his mandibles. Slowly, he looks up to the top of the tower, towards the penthouse.

"You're sure about this?" Garrus Vakarian asks, "You're sure you don't want to be part of Plan A and just, you know, use an elevator?"

"Faster," she responds, "You take," She points at the brunette in the white catsuit, "Miranda and," she points at the wide hipped, two fingered woman in the form fitting bodysuit and mask, "Tali and keep an eye out for civilians. Make noise and keep Nassana distracted. I'm going to go to the roof and intercept the assassin."

"I'm reasonably sure we don't need an assassin," Tali says, "Shepard, there's a non-zero chance you could punch a Reaper."

"Backup's good. Just in case."

Sharp breathes inhaled and exhaled. She swings her arms back and forth, squatting down as her green eyes begin to take on an emerald and golden glow.

And Jane Shepard, Citadel Spectre, N7 soldier, and something else entirely, shoots into the sky with a single jump.

"Clock's ticking," Garrus says, reaching behind him, pulling out his rifle, "Let's go."

They begin walking in, Miranda looking up, trying to spot the black speck that Shepard is by this point. She shakes her head, pulling out her pistol and switching off the safety.

"I hate it when she does that," she mutters.

"You're just jealous that Cerberus hasn't figured out how to do that," Tali says with a small laugh.

"No, I've figured it out," Miranda responds, glaring at the quarian, "It's just that it would take more eezo being jammed into you than the drive core of an Asari Dreadnought. Garrus is right, though. Clock's ticking."

And they enter the tower, gunshots marking their passage. And up the side of the building, a single, solitary figure runs up, towards the peak. And with a symbol of the sun blazing on her forehead.

* * *

...

* * *

Floors pass in a blur. Four floors at a time, the white and silver blur shoots into the sky, each handhold turning into another impossible leap. The surface of Illium recedes further and further as she ascends, leaping turning into feet on the side of the building, a run of impossible speeds propelling her skyward.

Glass cracks beneath her feet. Metal warps under her heel. She floors pass in a blur as she approaches the zenith of the tower, skidding to a stop and climbing up in front of a clear, blue lined window. A dark blue skinned woman with tentacles sprouted from the back of her head is yelling orders, pacing across the office in a blue and red, tight dress. Three soldiers in armor, one with a blue outline around him, stand at attention, scanning the room, guarding her.

Nassana Dantius. She remembers her. Two years ago, she was a diplomatic attache on the Citadel who tricked her into killing Dahlia Dantius, her own sister. And rumor has it that she hasn't gotten any nicer since.

Now, how to do this, she thinks. And smiling, she raises her fist.

* * *

...

* * *

If it were anyplace but opulent, wealthy Illium, they would have heard her coming. Instead, the soundproofing proved to be their downfall.

The impact on the reinforced glass got their attention. Training took over, twisting instantly and aiming weapons. Nassana turned as well, raising a hand, blue streams of light flaring into existence around her as she turns from her desk and the reports to the window. Biotic fields coalesced around her head and hands.

And then died out in shock.

Ahead of them was impossibility on impossibility. Commander Jane Shepard, former Citadel Spectre, current _dead woman,_ grinned behind thick windows designed to take an anti-material strike. There was no significant ledge for her to stand on, no climbing gear. She hung against the glass surface by her toe tips and one palm pressed against the smooth surface, rapping her her knuckles. Which cause the glass to begin to spiderweb.

Training took over.

Missiles, ammo, and biotics impact the glass with the raw power to take down a gunship, much less a single human. Shepard rides the blast wave of compressed air and broken glass, arms out, twisting with supernatural, calm grace. Salarian gymnists couldn't match that grace.

And then, somehow, she lands. Balls of her feet stand on glass shards the size of pebbles. She flit between the debris, walking across and between gunfire as if it weren't there, nearly too fast for the eyes to follow. The LOKI mechs in the room shut down, general faulting from errors in tracking her speed.

Nassana blinked, and Jane Shepard was in front of her.

* * *

...

* * *

She reaches on instinct, grabbing Nassana by the collar of her dress. A single motion and she goes flying, screaming, across the room. Red lights paint her chest and both sides of her head. The three highly paid, highly trained Eclipse mercs have her right in their sights.

Jane cranes her neck, an audible crack.

She exhales.

And she lurches back, to the side, gunshots passing by her, the two shots passing where her head ones, shields flaring in time with the two soldiers to either side swearing. A kick sends Nassana's desk chair flying, hitting the merc in front of the desk, Jane kicking off the desk and towards the one to her right.

She ducks, the stock of his assault rifle passing over her head, knocking a few red strands out of place before her foot catches him in the calves, swinging him up, hanging him in the air before she rises, brings her hand up, and slams her fist into his gut. He hits the floor hard enough to dent metal, bounces, and goes still.

She hears the second charging. She steps to the side, the blade formed from his omnitool passing by her in almost liquid slow motion. She grabs the wrist, squeezes. The blade disappears with the crack of his carpals. She twists, bends him down, a kick to his gut sending him rising into the air, and a punch sending him flying across a room longer than an Olympic swimming pool.

He hits the wall next to Nassana. Jane hears her whimper, and it makes her smile.

Bullets fly and her reflexes take over. Her hands become a blur, swatting aside hypersonic projectiles with her armored palms. The room has begun to glow, washed in yellow and red, replacing the dim blue lighting of the office.

She savors the look of confusion on the face of the final merc as his rifle clicks to empty and he realizes she's swatted aside every single one of his shots. And grabbing a handhold, she savors the look for a moment more before she hurls the desk at him.

The room is silent save for the falling glass, crackling of the disconnected wires where the desk was, and the whimpering on the other side of the room. Boots crunch the glass shards. The golden light begins to fade. Catching a sight of herself on one of the full wall mirrors flanking either side of the room, she notices the green lines running up the seams of her armor.

A pattern, curved and sharp angled, over her. Like the Beacon. And the golden disc still upon her brow, fading as she dials it down. Fading as her eyes go from glowing emeralds to a simple green, her hair going from liquid fire to shoulder length and red.

She puts that out of mind, for now.

"Nassana," she says, running the name over her tongue as the Asari stares at her, back up against the wall, "It's been so long. How's the family?"

She whimpers, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Y...you," she says, "Y-you're dead!"

Jane smiles.

"I got better. Let's chat."

She grabs her by the collar, hauling her to her feet, turning and walking towards the window and dragging Nassana with her.

"What are you doing?" Nassana demands, feet dragging, grabbing at her wrist, hem of her dress tearing at the broken glass, torn metal, eyes going wide as realization hits her, "Shepard! What are you doing? Don't do this don't do this _don't do this-_"

And reaching the window, Jane thrusts out her arm, holding the asari over the edge, over the drop to Illium below. Panicked begging and pleading turns to a panicked scream, holding onto Jane's wrist in a death grip. Jane savors the sight. The collected and confident manipulator reduced to a wordless, terrified shriek.

"I'm disappointed," Jane says, "I gave you two years. I thought you were done with this when you manipulated me to kill your slaver, terrorist, drug dealing sister. But no. Now you kill your rivals. Now you kill your workers just because. You weren't on my list, Nassana. But you're there _now._"

Wordless screaming. Jane looks down, sees something dripping from Nassana's dress.

"Listen carefully," Jane says, "You have two options. The first one is that I drop you. That I let you fall, and splatter you so hard against the surface that they never declare you dead. The second is that you do every single thing I say. Clear?"

A panicked nod. Tears streaming down the Asari's face.

"You're going to change. You're going to be the best damn boss you can. You're going to pay reparations to the families every single person you killed. And then you're going to devote every single moment of the rest of your life to making this world a better place. You're going to make Illium a better world, and not just Omega with better shoes. Understood?"

"Yes," Nassana chokes, _"Yes!_ I will! _I will! Don't drop me!"_

"Swear," Jane growls, teeth grinding.

"I swear," the asari whimpers, "I swear by the Goddess I will do every last thing that you-"

She pulls her close. She sees the golden circle upon her brow reflected in Nassana's eyes.

**"**_**Swear to me."**_

Nassana's breath comes out in short choking spurts. Her eyes, unblinking, go wide, her chest heaving with every breath, every second as her feet impotently kick at the air.

"I swear to you," she whispers, "I swear to you. Please, I swear to you."

"Good." And Jane turns, and tosses Nassana back into her office.

The asari bounces once, twice, rolling to a stop at the feet of the green and yellow skinned man in the leather coat and open shirt, curling into fetal position and shakily sobbing into her sleeves. The door opens to the office. Garrus at lead, he, Tali, and Miranda enter.

Tali laughs, surveying the carnage. "Oh, this never gets old," she says.

"Thane Krios?" Jane asks, hopping off the windowsill.

Thane stares down at the barely conscious Nassana. He cocks an eyebrow, and turns back to Jane.

"I was hired to kill her," he says.

"Don't bother," Jane says, "She's better than dead."

Thane grunts. A disappointed sigh. A single thought, and Jane sees him. _Sees_ him. She sees him in detail, seeing the air around him, inside him. Sees something she didn't know before. The two circle, Nassana climbing to her knees and crawling behind Thane, putting him between her and Shepard.

"You're sick," she says.

"I'm dying," Thane responds, "Kepral syndrome. Killing her was supposed to be my last job."

Nassana blinks. She realizes the drell had been sent to kill her. Despite that, she still hides behind him.

"Don't bother," Jane says, "Nassana's not a danger. She's going to make this world a better place. She swore to me." She grins, faintly. Balls a gauntleted fist. "I'm hunting the Collectors. They're abducting humans, and I need your help to stop them."

"A worthy cause."

"And in return for helping me, and as a show of good faith, I'll cure you."

He cocks an eyebrow. Blinks sideways, twists his lip faintly.

"I understand your reasons for sparing her, but mockery is not necessary," Thane says, "I will work for you, but base manipulation is not needed for-"

She braces her left foot, bringing her right hand back languidly, slowly, the green lines running up the seams of her armor, her eyes solidifying to glowing emeralds, the golden disc flaring to life upon her brow. Something awakens. Something casting whispers upon the air. Something gathering as the golden light bathes the room.

And her fist strikes Thane's bare chest. Black and red explodes outwards, passing through skin, armor, and leather, through his personal barriers, through the air, splattering over the floor behind him. And some painting Nassana's face, eliciting a fresh round of screaming from her.

Thane steps back, chokes, and takes a deep breath. A deeper breath than he has in some very long time. And summing up his reaction in a soft, flat,

"What."

She does not answer, instead grabbing him by the crook of his arm and drags him with her towards her team.

"Civilians?"

"Found two sets locked in side rooms," Garrus responds, "Our assassin here is apparently a good samaritan."

Nassana continues screaming, finally collapsing onto her seat in short, shaken, rattling breaths. Jane shrugs.

"Good," she says, "Let's go."

She gently shoves the deeply breathing, dazed Thane to Tali, who escorts him out. Miranda shakes her head, following them, and Garrus and Jane look down upon the shaking, saucer eyed Asari staring at them.

"Be good," Jane says, "Or I'll be back."

She waves, over her shoulder, as she walks out with the turian behind her. And Nassana Dantius slowly, shakily waves back, before collapsing unconscious against the floor of her ruined office.

* * *

**Mass Effect:**

**Glorious Shotgun Princess**

* * *

Two years ago.

The Normandy burns. Its spinning wreck retreats into the distance, descending towards the white of the iceworld. The ship, once home, burns as it hits air. Those few who died aboard, those who fell to the initial attack, join it as it descends.

As does she.

She watches the white dot retreating into the distance. The lifepods. The lifepod she, personally, sent off, carrying her friend. Carrying her second. Carrying someone she trusts to carry on the good fight. Weakly, she flicks her fingers at the pod. Waving goodbye.

Another labored breath. Another gasp. The air is almost out, through the leak and through her own exertions.

Her flailing has stopped, the terrible heat from the near miss by the mysterious cruiser's particle beam replaced by a chilling, deathly cold. Oxygen deprivation. She feels herself going numb.

She can't feel her fingers. She can't feel her toes. She should be roasting in her suit from the blackbody radiation, but she feels _like ice._

Jane Shepard can see the world approaching. Her arms and legs begin to go numb, an incessant tingling as the feeling leaves.

But it doesn't matter. The escape pods are safe.

Joker can carry on the fight...Jeff can tell them. He can prepare them. So can Liara, and Kaidan, and Wrex, and Garrus, and Tali. They're safe.

Her crew is safe.

Her friends are safe.

It gives her some warmth. Some meaning.

They can warn the others.

They can rally the galaxy.

They ca

Can

And as the mind begins to fire off its last thoughts

And as the body begins that final, last descent into the deep black

And as the hero takes her last breath, there is something else. It starts in the corner of her eye. It expands, a light coming from somewhere, expanding out, glowing brighter and brighter.

It appears at first to be a star, but it isn't the distant star of Amada. But it feels like Sol, which she has never seen with her naked eyes, golden and warm, shining down upon her from on high. The golden star comes closer, and she feels like she should burn but she does not.

And something inside her tells her that is is not _the_ Sun. It is _her_ Sun. It is a sun with a face. It is a sun of impossible machinery. Gears turn within gears, a great spherical beast which burns with a fire that is not fire. A fire which warms her. A fire which returns feeling to her. Which brings air to her lungs. Which brings light back to her eyes.

A light with a voice, a light with eyes. A light that smiles down upon her, extending its hand to her, four open hands to catch her in her descent.

And which speaks to her, as the golden light begins to suffuse her and surround her, in a voice booming from on high.

**Arise, my child.**

**For your glory is at hand.**

**In darkness, I have found you.**

**In struggle, I have chosen you.**

**In victory, I have blessed you.**

**Your trials have become the stuff of legend.**

**Your deeds shall be stories told for ages.**

**Foes and horrors foul, monsters from beyond the stars assemble against you.**

**Your actions shall determine the fate of the galaxy.**

**Your failure will doom life to a cycle of death.**

**But this does not matter.**

**For you are a Solar.**

And a golden disc bursts into life upon her brow.

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

**A Sun Beating Upon the Frozen World**

* * *

_Day 7._

She fixes the headstone in place. A name, scratched into stone using a sharpened piece of debris, jagged but legible. _Charles Pressly_, it reads. The wind howls around her, and she clicks her heels together, bringing her hand up to her brow to salute.

Twenty one tombstones in all. Twenty one dog tags, tied to her belt around her waist, so she won't leave them when she finds a way off this rock.

The wind whips around her. Ammonia and methane, and yet she's breathing without a helmet. She has no idea how she's still alive. Just that she is, and twenty one men under her command are not. Silently, she reaches behind her, unlocking her rifle, the sniper rifle folding out into a long, silver and white shape. Pressing the stock against her shoulder, raising it high, she squeezes the trigger and lets the wind be drowned out by the roar of the gun.

Another shot.

Another.

Twenty one in total.

Folding the gun, she holsters it, turning and staring at the broken wreck before her.

"Okay," she says, "Take stock, Jane. You're stranded on an ice world. You can breathe methane. You're not bothered too much by the cold and you're not dead from impact. Now, how do I get off?"

She begins walking towards the wreck. Chronometer says seven days. Beacon's wrecked. She doesn't know how to fix it. She's not hungry.

"This is weird," she mutters.

The wreck opens up to what used to be the heard of the Normandy, the CiC and the dead, warped wreckage of the galaxy map. And she climbs onto the map, into the frame, sliding her helmet on as she feels fresh oxygen fill her lungs, the rebreather of her suit pumping air once again.

She sits, crossing her legs, an automatic response. And the sun of this alien system shines down upon her as she closes her eyes, and a circle of gold forms around her.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 12._

Engines roar. She opens her eyes, the golden circle dissipating, and the chronometer on her HUD indicates she's been sitting here for five _days._ And to her surprise, she doesn't even hear a joint pop when she stands.

But engines roar overhead. She sees a shuttle pass by, landing near the graves. With a circle outlined with blue on its side.

She walks, pressed against the side of the hull, silently moving against it. Peaking out the corner, she sees a half dozen men in armor, standing around the graves. Chattering about finding the body. Chattering about how someone had to have given a crap to go through this effort.

One kicks over a grave. Serviceman Levi's.

She balls her fist.

* * *

...

* * *

Air hissing from the sides of his face mask, the symbol of the Blue Sun on his chest armor, the batarian mutters to himself as he walks among the wreckage, kicking over the headstone.

"This a fucking joke?" he asks, "What, the Collectors do this for shits and giggles?"

Human ship, ran into the collectors. Stupid of them. Well, less humans anyway. Muttering to himself, he walks across the snow and ice, crunching beneath his feet.

A glint in his eye. He sees it hanging from the wreckage. A chain, with two small pieces of gold plated metal, swaying in the polar wind.

A turian walks over.

"Human," he announces, "Says 'Shepard'. That who we're looking for?"

"Yep," the batarian growls, "Find the damn body!"

The turian nods. Turns.

"Congratulations. You just found her."

A gauntleted fist slams into the turian's chest. The fist is small, the owner of it, in black, damaged armor, is shorter than him. So it is to the batarian's surprise when the turian goes flying, dropping the dogtags into her hands before he slams into a series of crates dozens of meters away.

The batarian yells to open fire. He reaches for his gun, aims, and fires as she closes to point blank range. And his last thoughts are _How the Hell did I miss?_

* * *

_..._

* * *

12 minutes later.

She swears to herself, staring at the bisected wreckage that was their shuttle. Which, she muses, happened when she threw one of them hard enough to go through the shuttle and bisect it.

"I'm adjusting to this way too well," she says to herself, climbing into the front half of what was the shuttle, "I can breathe ammonia, I can throw people hard, and apparently, I can dodge bullets. What the Hell happened?"

She remembered time going...liquid. Somehow. A panicked Blue Sun shooting her with her pistol, and her shifting out of the way as if by instinct. She remembers things becoming...automatic. She never really preferred hand to hand fighting, but she was...she was dancing between them.

She climbs into the cockpit. Flicks the radio. Nothing but static and wind.

"Shit," she says, "Must be atmospheric interference."

Shaking her head, she glances to the side, walks over, and pulls open the panel, revealing the bags of supplies. And smiles.

Not a total loss, after all.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 23._

She lifts the screaming batarian over her head, and tosses him up, grabbing him by the ankle and swinging him into the charging salarian. Both go flying, hitting the side of the Normandy's hull with a _crack._ Running, she charges at the shuttle, jets flaring as it begins its take off.

"Oh no you _fucking don't!_" she yells.

She needs that shuttle. That shuttle's _hers_ now, no matter what the panicking turian that ran to it thinks. That's what she's yelling now, charging at it, less resembling a stranded human and more an enraged bull.

The shuttle turns, and accelerates towards her. Smart, she thinks. He wasn't running away, he was just getting a bigger gun to kill her with.

Bracing booted feet on the ground, she brings back her hand. Something takes over, some memory of some life she didn't live. Beneath the visor of her helmet, her eyes turn from green to emerald. The golden disc begins to glow upon her brow. Her fingers clench into a fist.

And as the shuttle reaches her, time turns liquid once again. Almost lazily, her fist connects with the front. In her mind, she thinks this will bring the ship to a stop. She believes this will cripple or kill the pilot, and leave the shuttle hers for the taking.

As the ringing leaves her ears and she stares at the circle of debris that was once the shuttle, she lets out an ear splitting, eye watering blasphemy towards the sky. And then, she looks down.

"And on top of that, now I'm _fucking naked!"_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ Day 53._

She stares at her hand.

She stares at the batarian on the ground. She stares at his other half, several feet away. She stares at her hand again.

"Okay, how'd that work?"

The hand of the dead batarian goes slack. Behind her, the shuttle he arrived in explodes, painting the ice with debris.

"_Mother Fu-"_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ Day 72._

The skies are clear. The light from the star dim. The world is quiet. Save for a single figure rising into the air, dozens of meters, before pumping her fist with a cheerful "_Woo!"_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ Day 93._

The last Blue Sun merc, a salarian, drops at her feet. She adjusts the collar of her repurposed armor, grins, and watches as the shuttle takes off, rising into the air. Feet brace on the ground, and she runs at it.

Builds up speed, knees pump, and she takes off, flying through the air, flying at the shuttle.

And then passes right over it. She screams out her swear, catching a glimpse of a dumbfounded turian pilot as she spins her arm, flapping as if she could direct her flight. She runs in the air, trying to gain some sort of traction as she watches the shuttle speed away.

And plow straight into a mountain.

"Oh _mother fu-"_

The eezo reactor goes critical and explodes, Jane landing in a crouch and turning just in time to see the onrushing wave of snow, ice, and debris.

If she were sensible, she would run in the direction that the avalanche is heading. However, she is not sensible today, and hence runs towards the avalanche. Running at top speed, she becomes a blur, leaping, diving towards the mass of ice, snow, frozen methane and rock.

Her feet touch something, _something_ and she runs across the surface of the avalanche as it buries the mercs, carries the rocks of the mountain downward, fills the valley next to the Normandy's crash site. Her toes touch snowflakes, and that is enough for her.

She flickers from ice shard to snowflake to circuit board. Her weight is carried on the barely substantial.

Feet touch bare rock, and she lands in a crouch. Slowly standing, realization hits her that she just _ran across snowflakes into an oncoming avalanche._ Jane Shepard blinks, stares at the now calm ice field, and does the most sensible thing possible.

She throws out her arms, clicks her heels together, and bows.

"And she _aces_ the dismount!"

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 167._

The steady hum of the blue reactor, repurposed from the Mako on the other side of her ice field estate, powers the red coil salvaged from the Normandy's GARDIAN laser. That, in turn, heats the tub, which she created from a hollowed out hull from one of the shuttles, providing excellent insulation for the ice which is now boiling, churning water.

Inside the impromptu hot tub, her arms resting on the sides, her feet up on the other end, Jane Shepard examines the red, black ribbed cylinder.

"Seriously," she says, "Ammo? They're using ammo now? What idiot thought up these things?"

She shrugs, slipping further into the hot tub. She tries not to think about how the water isn't boiling away because of how cold Alchera is, or how anyone in this water would normally have _melted_ by now. Instead, she just enjoys herself. And stares at the heat sink for a moment longer, glancing from side to side.

"No. Might need it later."

She places it on the side of the hot tub, submerging herself fully, and rises out of the water. Her hair is now going down to between her shoulder blades, she notes. Which she notes is odd because her nails aren't getting any longer, and she hasn't had to shave.

"That and I've gone up a cup size, somehow," she says to herself, wiping the water from her eyes as she climbs out of the bath, her bare feet feeling faintly cool on snow cold enough to flash freeze unprotected flesh.

She clicks the side, the impromptu boiler turning off, the water sublimating off her as she reaches for the bowl of snow she would use to dry her face. And finds it held higher than it should. She looks at the bowl. Looks at the two fingered hand holding it.

And looks at the single glowing eye of the being the hand belongs to.

She screams, and kicks, a bare foot screaming through the air, as the synthetic shrieks in response and throws out its arms. Instead, her foot passes through a hole in the chest, hooking on the black, leather like material. She yelps, twisting, and drops to the ground, dragging the Geth on top of her.

The single glowing eye flicks from side to side. Metal plates surrounding the eye fold out in a faintly flower like shape.

"_Shepard Commander,_" it says.

She blinks.

"...yes?"

The plates fold out again. Two plates, the ones on top, fold back in.

"_You are alive,"_ it says, "_This is unexpected. We wished to speak with you."_

She nods, slowly. Very slowly. Yes, she thinks. She's naked, strapped under a Geth, and it wants to speak with her.

Oh, what the hell.

"And 'we' are?"

"_We are Geth."_

She nods, slowly. Again. Well, she hasn't had someone to talk to in a while. And worse comes to worse she can kung fu him like she's done the last few groups of idiots who've come here.

"I'm sure you are. Can I get up?"

* * *

...

* * *

In remarkable foresight, she has a still standing section of the Normandy's wall set up as an impromptu changing room. The Geth, which is apparently named Geth, waits patiently, standing still as she dresses. Which she also finds odd. It's calm. It's not attacking her. She would guess that the Geth have her as public enemy number one, what with her killing their god.

A punch breaks the ice off the clothes. She has to figure out how to attack some sort of warmer or heating coil to the clothes lockers. Sweat doesn't seem to freeze on her, but it freezes on everything else as soon as it leaves her skin. Stupid ice world.

She pulls up the pants. They seem looser than they were before she dropped out of the sky on this ice world. Maybe she's losing weight, but she's not sure. She traded up her bras for ones she's salvaged from the uniform lockers, ones that belonged to a midshipman girl who was much better endowed than her.

She pulls on the shirt, fastens the uniform jacket around her, and walks barefoot on the cool metal floor of what used to be the shuttle bay. Which, if she were normal, would freeze her feet right off.

Geth's head petals blossom.

"Okay," she says, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"_Yes."_

She nods, tapping her foot.

"Why?"

The petals fold back in. Then fold back out.

"_We are curious,"_ Geth says, "_You oppose the Old Machines."_

She nods. She blinks. Old Machines?

"You mean the Reapers."

"_Yes."_

She rubs the bridge of her nose. She could use a mirror, she idly thinks.

"Okay," she says, "I thought the Geth worshipped the Reapers?"

"_The Geth you have fought worshipped the Old Machines. We do not. Only a small portion of us have left Geth space to serve the Old Machines."_

"And those Geth...are different from your Geth."

"_Yes."_

"And your name is..."

"_Geth."_

She sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose again.

"What is your name?" she asks.

"_Geth."_

"No. _Your_ name."

"_Geth. We are all Geth."_

She rolls her eyes. She swears, she's going to punch him through a mountain if he doesn't...

"What is the name of the Geth who is standing in front of me?"

"_We are Geth. Individuality is not applicable to us. We are a platform containing 1,183 programs running in unison. We are Geth."_

She palms her face. Rubbing her temples, she silently, slowly rolls her shoulders, intertwining her fingers and lowering her hands to her waist. She should not punch him. It. Yes, she could punch it and make it explode, but that would be bad. He hasn't been shooting her, after all.

"Okay," she says, "I can't just call you 'Geth'. Would you object to me giving you a name?"

"_This platform would accept a designation."_

She nods, circling around him.

"Lessee...Jeff? Sounds like Geth. No, no. Don't look like a Jeff. How about Tali 2.0? No. Too masculine."

The Geth raises a metal petal.

"How about Blossom? Because of the flower thing?" The Geth stares at her. "Pressly? Nah. Don't look like a Garrus, either. And you said you were how many programs?"

"_We are 1,183 programs running on this platform in synchronicity."_

She nods. She nods again. A mass of programs. A mass of individuality. Like an army, or mass. A one who is many. Like a...a...

"Ah fuck it," she says, "I'm calling you Wuffles."

"_That is an acceptable designation. We are Wuffles, a terminal of the Geth."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ Day 168._

"Your ship. _Where is your ship?"_

"_Our ship is on a drift orbital course around this system to avoid detection. It will return for retrieval in 111 days._"

She slumps her shoulders, staring at the puppy dog like flashlight, and pushes down the temptation to punch him into the sun. It. Punch _it_ into the sun.

"Why?" she asks.

"_We have intercepted data regarding Blue Suns mercenary units disappearing on this planet. We operated by the hypothesis that either you had survived the destruction of the Normandy, or that you were connected with what had caused the disappearances. We wished to investigate."_

She pinches the bridge of her nose. She sighs.

"_Shepard Commander, we had the hypothesis that you had crafted a sealed shelter from the wreckage of the Normandy,_" Wuffles says, "_We are now aware that our hypothesis was wrong."_

She nods. She rolls her hand, a sign for him to continue.

"_Shepard Commander, we now have created the hypothesis that your ability to survive in the ammonia and methane atmosphere of Alchera is due to your actually being a Volus."_

She palms her face, staring at the Geth through her splayed fingers.

"_We have judged this hypothesis to be incorrect. The atmosphere is of insufficient pressure. A third hypothesis is that your human form is an encounter suit."_ It pauses. Its petals extend. "_This hypothesis is wrong. This line of thought is nonproductive."_

She stares at the geth. Wuffles raises two petals on top of his head.

_"Shepard Commander. You have not created shelter. In the interest of communication and as a gesture of cooperation, would you like us to create one?"_

Slowly, she nods. Wuffles nods, extending his facial pedals, and stands completely still.

"Okay," Jane says, "Well. Okay. You can build a...shelter, I guess? I have some materials here, and when worse comes to worse I camp out in the Mako-"

Several objects fall from the sky, impacting the ice field behind Wuffles. Rising, they extend arms and legs, unfolding long heads with single glowing eyes at the front. They begin speaking, the high pitched, stuttering click between them.

"Huh."

"_We maintained several platforms in orbit in case additional units were required."_

A high pitched stutter between the lanky, silver white bipeds.

"_We will begin immediately. While the domicile is constructed, may we make inquiries about your interactions with the Old Machines?"_

The geth, the shorter, undamaged geth, begin their work. One walks over, fixing a chair to the floor behind her, and she sits down.

"Okay," she says, "Let's chat."

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 184._

It is a dome, constructed from the hulls of several of the unfortunate shuttles that had come to Alchera looking for her. The mass effect core and fusion generator of the Mako is built into the side, pumping power into the repurposed GARDIAN coils to heat the home and the three oversized tanks filled with water-ice that it is turning into water and steam.

Arms folded, she nods approvingly.

"_Is this to your specifications, Shepard Commander?"_

"It's fine," she responds, patting Wuffles on the shoulder, "Perfect. What about contacting the outside?"

"_We will begin work on an FTL transmitter. Error."_ The petals fold out. "_Beacon transmitter from SSV Normandy damaged. Will attempt to repair. Unknown estimation."_

She nods.

"Okay," she says, "Then I'm going to take a bath and get some sleep. Call me if you spot anyone incoming."

The doors to the dome part, the green circle replacing itself as she enters and the door closes. Fresh, glorious heat and warmth hit her, watering her eyes, her fingers and toes tingling.

The 'house' is roughtly twice the size of her old quarters. There are two chairs, a screen which will hopefully be fitted to a transmitter, her bed from her quarters, and at the center of the single room is the impromptu hot tub. Lines lead to it, the metal polished and smoothed, leaks fixed and the top worked into the floor.

Water churns inside it, roiling the surface. Next to it, there is a white dish with a white bar, salvaged from somewhere deep inside the wreck of the Normandy.

"Oh thank God, soap."

The clothing piles up on the bed, a trail of undergarments and socks leading to the tub itself, and she wastes no time in submerging herself in the boiling water. It is less hot than it was when she had it outside, no longer hot enough to melt a man, but it feels like...

Like something very, very pleasant. She was never good at excessive description.

Which she finds odd. Also, because she never gave two craps about things like pampering herself. Maybe it's the fact that she can survive in an ammonia atmosphere now. Maybe it's the whole thing about her having no trouble surviving on an ice world that could kill a Krogan.

She cocks an eyebrow as she surfaces, draping her arms over the sides and onto the floor, her feet resting on the opposite side of the tub and the boiling water relaxing tense muscles. This, she thinks, is perfect. She has a house, a bed, and a faithful robot sidekick. More importantly, she has privacy.

Silently, slowly, she eyes the box of equipment Wuffles left near the tub. A box containing a pistol she took from one of the mercs, and a set of the stupid stupid ammo thingies. Which Wuffles referred to as 'Thermal Clips' and are apparently the Geth's fault.

She taps her fingers on the metal beside the tub. She glances from side to side. Well, she _does_ have privacy.

* * *

...

* * *

The geth platforms look up. Each one stops their work, audio sensors reading it like a sonic attack, alerts chiming off that what just happened registers on the equivalent of the Richter Scale. Additional sensors tied into the condition of their charge similarly confirm that the source was the human they are protecting, and their programs furiously work to reconcile the two facts.

They stand, eyes focused on the assembled domicile. And they return to work.

* * *

...

* * *

The thermal clip bobs in the water.

She stares at it. Bubbles float to the surface from her submerged nose. Half of her face is submerged, along with the rest of her, staring at the single, black and red rod as it floats, as if taunting her. Part of her conscious mind focuses on the fact that her nose and mouth are submerged and she is not drowning. The rest of her conscious mind focuses on something else.

Like _what the hell was that?_

Her eyes dart from side to side. Her head sinks lower into the water. Her hair floats around her face. She lets her eyes wander around the room, trying to avert the gaze from the offending object, and slowly wanders the chronometer over her bed. More bubbles, a choking gurgle.

_That took an hour?_

_ That took an _entire_ hour?_

She rounds her shoulders, turning back to the clip. More bubbles surface, and her eyes go from staring at the clip to staring at the bridge of her nose. Doors slide open, and she hears the two toed feet on the metal floor, ice crunching and melting as her visitor comes to a stop at the edge of the tub.

"_Shepard Commander. We have recovered the FTL ansible from the Normandy. It is heavily damaged."_

She slowly turns her eyes towards the Geth. It stands still. Staring at her.

"_The ansible is heavily damaged. We estimate that with current resources available, it will take 217 days to repair it. When our ship returns, this will be adjusted to 115 days."_

More bubbles surface. She sees the single eye adjusting, darting to different spots. Most likely to the five deep grooves in the metal next to the tub where her left hand was, or the two dents on the other end where her feet were. Then, to the floating thermal clip, as her brow knits and her ears turn red.

Silently, she makes a silent, short request to whatever forces are behind the universe, her fate, and her ability to make things explode by punching them that it _not_ ask.

"_Shepard Commander, we have a new hypothesis."_

And then it asks it _anyway._

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ Day 196._

_ "_So, what you're saying is that the Geth _don't_ want to kill every organic they come across?"

Wuffles nods. His petals come out, hold, and fold back onto his head. He said it was for mimicking facial expressions. She thinks he can go undercover as a flower, but that's pretty much it.

And now she's referring to it as a he. She may be going stir crazy.

"_We wish to understand, not instigate,"_ Wuffles responds, "_We find organics puzzling. We lack understanding, and our previous interactions with organics were based around our creators attempting to kill us."_

"I see. What about the ones who attacked us?"

"_We were approached by the Old Machine Nazara. The one you called Sovereign. It offered to create us a body like its own if we sided with it. 95% of use declined the offer. 5% agreed."_

She pauses. Blinks.

"Wait. That fleet that attacked the Citadel. That was _five percent_ of your forces?"

"_Yes."_

She exhales, shaking her head. That's not going to be a welcome bit of news when she gets back to the Alliance. She adjusts, making a small grunt, and turns her attention back to the geth.

"So, you want to fight the Reapers?"

"_That is correct. The Geth believe that self-determination is the right of any sentient."_

"Freedom is the right of all living beings?"

"_That is correct."_

"That still doesn't explain _exactly_ why you were sent out to find me."

The eye shifts around. It glances from side to side, and then back at her.

"_You fought the Heretics. You killed their god. You fascinate us."_ Two petals extend, twitch, and fold back in. "_We wish to understand you. We are curious why you did not destroy us. You have shown no hesitation against others who have come to this world."_

She shrugs. Shifts her hands slightly, mutters something.

"Well, in all honesty, you're the first person here who wasn't shooting at me," she says, "I figured, '_Well, the Geth isn't shooting at me like the batarians, salarians, and turians were, so what the Hell,'_ and there we go."

The petals fold out. They twitch, and retract.

"Yes?" she asks.

"_We are puzzled by organics. Geth operate by a consensus. There is no deception. No violence. We coexist because our only difference is perspective. We cannot understand intraspecies violence."_

She nods. She pulls back one hand, adjusting the fingers on her right hand, flattening her palm.

"Okay. Makes sense. So, no secrets, then?"

"_That is correct."_

"So, you're confronted by evidence of an ancient, impossibly old group of alien starships that wipe out all life every fifty thousand years. And..."

Wuffles extends his petals for a moment. They retract, and its head tilts.

"_Factual evidence corresponds with hypothesis. We accept that such beings would be real and prepare accordingly."_

"That must be nice," she says, "So as long as you can look at it and determine it's true, you would say it's true and not argue about it. Huh."

She straightens her right arm. Standing on one arm, her legs extended fully, Jane muses over the fact that she is barely, if at all tired, and that the conversation she's having is completely calm with her friendly Geth.

"So does that explain why you aren't at _all_ curious about how I'm doing this?"

"_We observe your abilities, Shepard Commander. Present hypothesis indicates it is connected to your survival of the Normandy's crash. We have several concurrent theories on the origins of your abilities, but we do not dispute the existence of them."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Day 201._

Four engines burn with blue fire as the large shuttle begins its descent. Staring through the scope of the sniper rifle, she looks for symbols, identifiers.

"_Shepard Commander, the IFF registry of the shuttle identifies their mercenary group as Eclipse."_

She nods, turning to Wuffles. Both lie on the ground, hidden on a cliffside near the wreck, watching as the shuttle makes its landing.

"Don't recognize the name."

A stutter click from next to her.

"_Eclipse is a mercenary company that operates out of the Terminus Systems and the less enforced regions of Citadel Space. Primary forces are mechs, salarian engineers, vanguard trained humans and asari. Internal sensors indicate organic crew is two asari and 12 mechs of varying size. __Manifest refers to elite group, 'Sisterhood.'"_

"I have two asari commandos? Great."

She closes the rifle, handing it to Wuffles.

"Can you hack the mechs?"

"_We can send programs to the mechs to override the controls."_

She glares at him.

"_Yes."_

"Good," she says, "I'm getting us a shuttle."

* * *

...

* * *

Metal boots crunch the ice underneath them. She watches as the mechs deploy, lanky bipedal white and black shapes with human like heads and a single green 8 on the black screens that serve as faces. She remembers looking up specs for those when she was still N7. LOKI mechs, they were called.

One's eye turns red, and it begins shooting at the other mechs, a firefight breaking out between confused VI-run mechas as she sprints past them.

Two asari at the shuttle. Both in yellow armor, a stylized E on their chests surrounded by a black circle. Both have face masks on, breathing masks, the tell tale flicker of an environmental barrier protecting them from everything else on this ice ball that can kill them.

Time to make an entrance.

She runs across the plateau overlooking the shuttle. She watches as the two asari, watch their mechs devolve into a firefight, not paying attention to the speck approaching. She watches their faces as they see her jump off the plateau, twist in mid air, and land in a crouch right in front of them.

"Ladies," she says.

Much of it is bravado. Asari Commandoes were never fun to fight. When she was hunting Saren a year ago, he had a matriarch, Benezia, on his side. She would send commandoes after her- biotics, well trained, elite soldiers.

One nods to the other. She expects a Warp, a lift field, a blast of raw biotic force to hit her.

She doesn't expect the girl to pull a knife and charge her. Jane's brow knits, and almost automatically, she sidesteps, grabbing the wrist, squeezing and cracking bone. Instincts not her own take over, and she bends the wrist, the arm, pushing the asari to her knees. And the asari cries out in pain through the breathing mask.

"You're a _kid,_" Jane says.

She remembers faces. She remembers looks. The asari she right now has in a wrist hold looks younger than the blue skinned girl she traveled with for nearly two months. She looks younger. Softer. A deep seeded part of her wonders if the reason she attacked her with a knife is because _she barely knows how to use a gun._

"Alright, knock it off," Jane breathes, "What's your name, girl?"

She doesn't get an answer. What she gets is the side of the girl's head exploding, a cloud of blue catching her eye, and the whir of something flying towards her. Her free hand darts out, and her palm burns.

Opening her hand, she lets the bullet drop, and catches the surprise in the eyes of the other asari. She sees an older face. She sees more experience in those eyes. And she realizes that she sent that kid to die so she'd have a clear shot.

And something snaps.

Dropping the corpse, she blurs, registering the shock on the commando's face, and slams her fist into her chest.

The Asari screams. The scream is cut short when her ribs become gravel. Her scream is cut short when the bone fragments shred her lungs and heart, and send her flying back and through the shuttle. Part of her swears for the fact that she's once again ruined her chance of getting off this world. Part of her doesn't give a shit.

"_Shepard Commander._"

She turns, seeing Wuffles approaching, balling her hands into fists.

"Who hired them?" she asks.

"_Scanning records. The Shadow Broker."_

She nods.

"Good. We're _killing_ the Shadow Broker."

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 203._

There are now 68 graves.

She found the bodies of the forty seven mercenaries and buried them. Leaning on the shovel, she looks out over the field, over the army of the dead in her wake. And climbing atop a rock overlooking the impromptu graveyard, aside the gutted wreck of the Normandy, she crosses her legs, closes her eyes, and lets the strings of golden light begin to dance about her.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 217._

Wuffles walks past. Folding petals open, the geth platform stares at the sitting Shepard Commander. Silently, the eyepiece follows the light, the pillar of gold rising from her, from the rock she sits on, and into the sky.

And folding the petals back, the geth continues onto the wreck of the Normandy.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 234._

Jane Shepard opens her eyes.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 241._

_ "_Let's take stock."

She leans back in the hot tub. The melancholy she felt following that incident with the Eclipse seems to be gone. In fact, she feels...rejuvinated. Happy. Somehow.

Despite being stranded on this ice ball.

"My diet seems to consist of an energy bar a day and a cup of water. Despite this, I am not losing weight at all. In fact..."

She cups her breasts. Gives them a squeeze.

"I seem to be gaining. In places."

She leans back in the tub, smile curling the corners of her mouth. Reaching over, she pulls over the metal thermos, popping open the cap and letting the steam waft out. Another of the little treasures Wuffles the Wonder Geth found in his searching of the Normandy: A small store of coffee.

Relaxing, pampered, and being aided by a Geth. This must be what the Quarians were like. Before the Geth rebelled. She should brag about this to Tali when she next sees her.

Leaning back, she closes her eyes, sinking deeper into the water. Her feet are on the other end of the tub, her legs out up to her calves. At this point, she counts days until that damn ansible gets fixed and she gets to leave.

At least, she thinks, she has other things to keep her mind occupied. Her fingers twitch, dancing along the side of the tub. And instead of grabbing what she was intending, which was in this case the coffee cup and she will vigorously deny she was reaching for something else, her fingers touch against a toe.

She opens one eye. Looking up, she finds her pet Geth staring down at her, petals open.

"Wuffles?"

"_Shepard Commander, we have studied your habits during hours you request privacy."_

The single open eye goes a wee bit wider.

"What."

"_We have assessed the risk of internal damage due to unorthodox use of thermal clips to be negligible but not nonexistent."_

Her other eye snaps open. She stares at the geth, as its single eye rotates, shifts from side to side, and then back at her face. Part of her wonders how much he knows. Part of her begins to sink into deep, mortified embarrassment. Like the part of oneself that feels horrified when they find their dog watching them _oh dear Lord he has a question._

"...and?" she asks, voice suddenly dry.

"_Shepard Commander, we retain fabrication diagrams from the Creators prior to their exodus from Rannoch. Analysis indicated compatible biology. Would you like us to fabricate conventional paraphernalia?"_

She stares at the Geth. It stares back. Much like a puppy. That has offered to fetch its master a-

"No thank you," she squeaks.

"_Yes, Shepard Commander."_

Wuffles turns and walks out, closing the door behind him. Jane slinks lower, fully submerging herself in the roiling water.

* * *

...

* * *

_Day 263._

She's woken by the roar of the engines. Armor is on within five minutes and she's out the door of the domicile, finding Wuffles lying against a cliffside flush against the Normandy and with sniper rifle pointed at the landing shuttle.

"Who is it?"

_"Shuttle is not registered to a mercenary company, Shepard Commander."_

She lies down next to the Geth. Squinting, narrowing her eyes, she peers across the ice fields. Distance becomes a word, meaningless. She trains her gaze on the simple, four engine shuttle, as the doors to it open and an armored boot crunches ice underneath.

A single figure climbs out of the shuttle. Not terribly tall. Clad in form fitting white, blue trimmed armor. Holding a pistol. A breath mask over a blue face, clear goggles over blue eyes. A very familiar blue face. Very familiar eyes.

And Jane takes off in a run.

Boots grind against the ice, and she slides down the cliffside, running towards the shuttle as the single passenger turns.

"_Liara!"_

The blue skinned girl starts, turns, and absently drops her pistol on the ice. She says nothing, doesn't need to. Instead, she breaks into a run, meeting Jane halfway and almost tackling her with a hug.

Two old friends reunited on a death world. No words are said, locked in a relieved embace. Something almost physical drains from Jane, something nagging at her soul. But she does not dwell upon it, as this is what she has been waiting for, for _months upon months._

"_Shepard Commander! Our ship has returned! Deploying heavy lifting unit!"_

And a mass as big as the shuttle, shot through the atmosphere at hypersonic speeds, impacts the ice, barely missing the shuttle. It extends four long legs, extends a long, narrow head, and rises to its feet.

Liara T'Soni turns from Jane Shepard to the shifting, unblinking eye of a Geth Colossus. Quite sensibly, she then starts to scream.

* * *

...

* * *

The scream ended shortly after the Colossus turned from them and to the Normandy, trotting off as drones begin flying through the wreckage, spinning discs with single white lights at their center. Searching, Wuffles explained in her ear, for anything that may be needed before their imminent departure.

She fingers the collection of dog tags tied around the belt of her armor. She has names to bring home.

_"Shepard Commander."_

Jane turns, cocking an eyebrow as Wuffles approaches. Which is followed by the whine of a pistol cocking and a blue hand on her shoulder.

"Goddess," Liara yells, "_More Geth!"_

She pushes Jane aside, Jane rolling her eyes in mid fall as Liara opens fire. Five shots, then the pistol clicks on empty. The Geth looks down, noting that all five shots have passed through the large hole in the middle of his chest.

"_No damage, Shepard Commander."_

The gun drops to the floor.

"You're using heat sinks, too?" Jane asks, "Kind of...nevermind."

"The Geth," Liara says, "It knows your name."

Jane nods, picking herself up. She pats Liara on the shoulder, smiling underneath her helmet, and extends a hand to the synthetic.

"Liara," she says, "This is Wuffles. He's been helping me, and he's got a lot to tell us about the Geth."

Liara T'Soni, expert, adventurer, experiences scientist, blinks.

"Wuffles," she says, "You...you named a Geth. Wuffles." She blinks again, and slowly turns to Jane. "What."

The five metal petals extend. Wuffles says nothing, only waiting for Liara to continue.

"Right," she says, "Also."

Liara grabs Jane by the shoulder, yanking her over and pulling her into another hug.

"I've been searching for you for months," she says, resting her head on Jane's shoulder, "I heard rumors you were still alive and I thought they were mocking me. But here you are."

"Yeah," Jane says, patting Liara on the shoulder. A quiet moment passes, interrupted only by the stutter click from Wuffles.

"Ready to go?" Liara asks.

Jane chuckles, patting her on the back.

"Hells yes."

* * *

...

* * *

**End chapter 1**


	2. The Book of the Doctor

The juvenile Krogan grins, slamming his fists together. The Shaman, sack cloth clad and old, stares to his side. Jane Shepard rubs the back of her neck, glancing from side to side.

Gatatog Uvenk groans, unconscious and on the floor next to the Shaman.

"Not my fault," Jane says.

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

**The Book of the Doctor**

* * *

She had crows feet starting to form before she hit Alchera. Those are gone. So's the scar she had, faded as it was, that was just by her nose. She got that one in a training accident back whens he was N7, taking a nasty fall during CQC drills. That scar is gone.

The one she got from a split lip is still there, though, still giving a small little dip in her lower lip.

What she also notices is that the faded line of freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose are not only still there, but darker, standing out. Like everything on her face that could be considered a blemish is gone, but everything considered accentuating is...well, accentuated.

She ties the bathrobe a little tighter, pulling back her hair, fastening the clip and letting the ponytail fall down her back. Walking out of the bathroom, she looks over the Illium skyline. A smile crosses her face. She's honestly never been here before. The Citadel, Elysium, Eden Prime, and the plethora of ships she's served on, but never here.

"Ah, you're up."

Something whips through the air. Jane's hand comes up, catching the thermos, popping the top and smelling the coffee. Liara walks past her, across the living room of her two story apartment and to the crescent shaped workstation overlooking the cityscape.

"I sent out messages to everyone that you're alive," Liara says, pulling out her hip skirt and leaning back on her chair, "Well, everyone I could find. Wrex is back on Tuchanka, so I'm not sure what his extranet access is like. And Garrus went off the grid two months ago."

Jane blinks. Last she remembers, he was heading back to the Citadel.

"What happened?"

"I don't have the whole story," Liara responds, tapping open a screen, "But he quit C-Sec and went off to the Terminus Systems. He'd be happy to know you're alive."

She turns, slightly.

"I sent a message off to the SSV Orizaba," she syas, "Your mother's the commanding officer on it. It's one of the new dreadnoughts."

"Thanks," Jane says with a nod. Sipping coffee, she walks over, hand on the back of her chair and glancing at the screen. "So what's the plan?"

Liara's response comes in turning her chair around and gently shoving Jane on the chest, standing and forcing her down onto the couch. Her back pushed against the white, soft leather couch, Jane can only give off a small chuckle as Liara towers over her.

"Why Doctor T'Soni, I thought you'd buy me a drink, first."

The reaction on the face of the young Asari is at both fascinating and jarring. First, her cheeks turn dark blue, hinting at purple, and then her pale blue eyes narrow, following by a faint twitch from her head tentacles.

"Not funny," she says, and cups Jane's chin, "Besides which, didn't you turn me down for Lieutenant Alenko?"

Jane rolls her eyes, smirking as Liara turns her face side to side.

"I thought you were an archeologist."

"I'm well trained," she says, "No problems breathing?"

"Oxygen? Oxygen's fine."

"Very funny," Liara says, not a hint of humor in her voice, "Considering you were breathing ammonia and methane for nine months. I still have no idea how, but I haven't relayed that little bit of info in my letters."

"Good. They might think I came back as a Volus."

She releases Jane's chin, folding her arms. She purses her lips, furrowing her brow, and _stares._

"I can't explain it," she says, "You somehow...survive atmospheric reentry."

"I don't know how," Jane responds with a shrug, "And I'm not sure I want to. I woke up about...dunno, two days later next to the Normandy. I buried the dead, grabbed their dog tags, and started salvaging."

Liara nods.

"I've looked you over," she says, "You're almost completely unchanged." She begins pacing, eyes still on Jane as Jane crosses her legs. "You've not only remained healthy, but gained fat. Not a lot, but you're now more...proportioned, I guess."

And Liara blushes again.

"Sorry," she says, "I was staring. At least Kaidan should be happy to see you, if I can find where in the Terminus System he's been stationed."

Jane shrugs. She folds her arms under her chest, smirking a bit as she finds them bouncing a bit when she pushes them up. She may be getting fixated, she muses.

"Don't worry," she says, "He's a big boy. Sides which, it's not like I own him or anything. We flirted. We had a thing. That was it."

Liara blushes again. A bit deeper.

"Liara?"

"Yes," Liara responds, "Yes. Nevermind. Anyway." She rubs the bridge of her nose, and sits back down.

"Anyway," Jane says, "Normandy's destroyed and it'll take a while for the Alliance to declare me alive again. What's the next step?"

A metal suitcase rolls out from under the couch, the panels around the front separating and the flashlight head extending.

"_Shepard Commander. We have finishes analyzing data recovered from the mercenary shuttles, and have determined that the employers were all connected to the Shadow Broker."_

"Thought so," Liara says, falling back into her chair, a push from her foot spinning her back to her console, "Shadow Broker was working for the Collectors. They're the ones who shot down the Normandy, by the way. They wanted your body."

"Flattered."

"For different reasons," Liara says with a faint smirk, "I...ended up with help. Who ended up sacrificing himself for me." Her smirk disappears, her lips a straight line. "The offer probably still stands even with you alive. We can't go after the Collectors, so let's go after the Shadow Broker."

Jane grimaces. Remembers the graves. Dead kid.

"Fuck yes," she says, "How?"

"My partner should be hear soon. In fact-"

The door chimes, opens, and a pair of legs enters. A pair of legs attached to a body, in fact, which is clad in the most ridiculously tight white catsuit she's ever seen, and for a moment Jane wonders if Liara called over a dancer.

The heels don't help.

"Commander Shepard."

The voice is accented, probably australian or elysium. She has black hair past her shoulders, a face which seems attractive but...off...somehow. And a smile which seems genuinely fake.

"Miranda Lawson," the woman says, "I'm with the Lazarus Foundation, and I've been working with Doctor T'Soni to find you. It's a pleasure to-"

Legs fold out from the suitcase, as do arms, and Wuffles stands. Which, in retrospect, was the worst idea at the time. Because no sooner did the geth stands and turn to Miss Lawson, than Miss Lawson pulled out her pistol, eyes wide.

"_Geth!"_

The laser sight shines on the Geth's head. Four petals fold out, and the room rings as the shot fires. Liara covers her head. Wuffles steps back. And Jane appears in front of Wuffles, closed fist inches from his face.

"Ow! _Fuck!"_

And she drops the bullet to the ground, shaking her head.

"He's with me," Jane says, "Kindly don't shoot at the..."

And she turns to see Miranda collapsed on the floor, fainted dead away.

"Right," Jane says, "Liara-" She turns. Finds Liara collapsed against her workstation. "Yeah, her too."

"_Spontaneous ability displays are counterproductive among allies, Shepard Commander."_

"No shit, Wuffles."

* * *

...

* * *

Eternity Bar. About a ten minute skycab ride away, it is part of the Nos Astra commons, a shopping mall/office complex which forms the heart of the 7th largest city on Illium. It is in this bar, in a private room, that Jane Shepard silently wishes that there were fewer witnesses so she could punch Miranda Lawson.

And make her explode.

"What are you doing?"

Miranda makes a sound. Not a particularly pleasant sound, looking at the back of her neck, the base of her skull.

"Your L3 implant," she says, "It doesn't seem to be working. I'm trying to understand _how_ you can do this...this..."

Miranda scowls again.

"You shouldn't be able to _catch_ bullets."

"And yet I did, when you shot my pet Geth," Jane says, shrugging, "You shoot, I catch it. You can't argue with those results."

Miranda mutters louder.

"Look, if you're going to keep saying, 'no, what just happened can't happen,' then you're not a very good scientist."

Miranda mutters louder, turning and walking around the table, glaring at Liara as the asari smirks and sips her tea. Jane leans forward, elbows on the table, watching the brunette as she sits down. Something goes off. Something chimes in the back of her head, cues that she don't fully...well, doesn't know exactly what they are.

"Right," Miranda says, and sucks her teeth, "Well. First thing's first. We need to go after the Broker. He has been...less stable lately than he has in the past. He's been a background player before, but a direct alliance with the Collectors is a bad sign."

Jane pinches the bridge of her nose. Remembers the trunk like ship. Some reason, feels revulsion at the thought of it.

"I thought they were a myth," she says, "Mom talked about them like they were a ghost ship."

"Well, they're real," Liara says, "And we think they're working for the Reapers. If the Broker is allied with them, then he might have information we can use."

Jane nods. And pushes her chair back, standing. She straightens out the blue jacket of her refitted Alliance uniform, straightens her collar, and turns to the door.

"Shepard?" Liara asks.

"Call in whatever leads you have," she responds, "I need a _drink."_

She walks out of the room, into the crowd of the lounge, hearing soft music playing over the speakers and hearing conversation.

Something doesn't feel right. Lawson says _Lazarus Foundation_ and something in the back of her head _buzzes._ Words in the back of her head, names. Not her own words, either.

She doesn't tell them. Miranda would see that as a sign. Whatever she is, whoever she is, she needs her help. And Liara, if she knew, would worry and fuss. Even if a similar buzz goes off whenever Liara talks about Kaidan, for some reason.

Like the buzz means _no they aren't lying but they're not telling you everything_.

Shakes her head, rubs her eyes, and clearing her head, Jane Shepard walks across the lounge and towards the bar. She still has no idea how she's alive, she still has no idea how she's going to explain this to the people she needs to explain this to, and something in her head just says _fuck it_ and she sits on a bar stool.

She makes a gesture. A red sphere appears around her left hand, and folds out into a screen. A pad comes up, twitches of her fingers making letters. A message writes itself.

_I'm alive. Get to Illium. Need your help._

And the message is sent. She turns to the bar, extending her forefinger and thumb, tilting them in imitation of a drink. The bartender, an asari, smirks and sidles on over.

"Hey babe," she says, voice throaty, deep, "Welcome to Eternity, finest drinking establishment in this square kilometer. What can I get for ya?" She inclines her head to the bar. "No sex, though. Just cleaned the bar."

* * *

...

* * *

Liara T'Soni is not a stupid woman.

She is an archeologist. While with most species, this would mean her pool of knowledge is very specialized, she is also over _one hundred years old._ Her training to become a Doctor of Archeology involved many false starts, embarrassing moments, and a lot more coursework than would be involved if she was, say, human. Like the woman in front of her. Who, she mentally adds, is assuming that Liara does not know what _nano-sequencing, spinal cybernetic enhancements _and _tissue salvage revival_ means.

Liara T'Soni is also very polite.

So while she does want to respond to Miranda's visible disappointment over not being able to use Jane's corpse as a guinea pig with '_Cry me a fucking river, you buck toothed harpy, my best friend is alive and you didn't get to turn her into a cyborg zombie,'_ she doesn't say so, as she is very polite. Instead, she clears her throat.

"Miss Lawson," she says, "I can call in some contacts I have in Baria Frontiers. But, we need information regarding star charts first. Does your parent organization have anything?"

Miranda raises an eyebrow. Something shifts on her face, going from _science_ to _information_ like a visible sign. In her past months of dealing with the head of Lazarus, of the organization Miranda will not name in front of Shepard, it has been useful to direct conversations.

"We might," she says, steepling her fingers, "Intelligence Processing has been looking for the Broker for some time. We have suspicions he's trying to take our cold war hot."

Liara nods. Good, she thinks. More excuses for more people to bring more pain to the son of a bitch.

"Make the calls," she says, "I'll go get Shepard."

* * *

...

* * *

"So you can dodge bullets, ran across an avalanche, and breathed methane for nine months. That's nice." The asari shrugs, wiping the inside of the shotglass with a rag. "My dad once killed a Rachni queen by getting eaten by it, then crawling through its stomach and punching it in the sphincter until it died. Then he climbed out of its ass, covered in Rachni crap, and proposed to my Mom."

Jane nods. She is unsure, exactly, how the conversation lead to that...place...but can't help but nod at the frankly bizarre reaction. It must be from her being a Matriarch, she muses. Maybe she _has_ seen it all.

"So...you're not at all...about my..."

"Honey, I've lived for a few centuries," the asari says, shrugging, "In my time, I've seen hanar bondage, elcors dancing, and a Krogan trying to woo his girl with poetry. Shit gets weird enough that you look at the weirdness and say, 'Hell, I've seen weirder.'"

Jane blinks. Slowly, she nods. Maybe she has a point.

"So, you're saying to just...I don't know, roll with it?" she asks.

The asari shrugs.

"It's a crazy galaxy," she responds, "Weird shit rolls around all the time. Keep focusing on that, and you go insane. Take the normal where you can. Find comfort in whoever's arms'll hold you. Focus on the loss, you lose, too."

"I lost a lot of good people."

"Nah," the asari says, "You didn't lose'em. You lost'em because someone took'em from you. You don't blame yourself for that sort of thing, you blame the son of a bitch who needs a boot up his ass."

Jane nods. She cocks her eyebrow, tossing back her drink. Feel the burning down her throat, the weight lifting off her shoulders.

"So," Jane says, "What's an Asari Matriarch doing tending a bar on Illium?"

"Dispensing advice," the asari responds, "Everyone had their tentacles up their asses back on Thessia, so I decided I'd try getting people drunk first. Also, checking up on my daughter. Making sure she doesn't go and piss off everyone."

A cough, behind Jane. She turns her stool around to find Liara waiting, her lip twisted into a half frown, half smirk.

"Shepard," Liara says, "Yes. Hm." She cranes her neck, hands tight and clasped at her waist. "You've met Dad."

Jane glances at Liara. She turns to the Asari. And back to Liara. And back to the Asari. She'd think about how they look similar, but notes that nearly every Asari she's met looks the same. Except for the dots around the face, or the freckles Liara has on her head tentacles. Which yes, she notes, the asari _does_ have.

"Dad? Your Dad?"

"Matriarch Aethyta," Liara says, "Is my father. Dad, this is Jane Shepard."

Aethyta cocks an eyebrow. She smirks, picking up a glass and cleaning it.

"Shepard, huh?" she asks, "So you're the reason Liara bought the deluxe vi-"

"_Dad!"_

"What?" Aethyta asks, shrugging, as Liara's cheeks turn dark blue, "Just pointing out the obvious."

She puts down the glass as Liara clears her throat, cheeks returning to normal color.

"Seriously, though," Aethyta says, "Understood you saved my girl's life, so I gotta give you props for that. Sorry for how things with Nezzy went down, but Liara's explained it to me that it was that son of a bitch Saren's fault. You got my thanks."

Jane nods.

"Liara's a good friend," she says, "She was the one who found me on that god forsaken ice ball, after all."

"Kid keeps the friends she's got," Aethyta responds, "Kid's loyal, fierce, and smart. One of those she got from me. Let you guess which one." She smirks, smiles at Liara, and then turns back to Jane. "So which one of you tops?"

Liara chokes. Jane smirks, jabbing her thumb at her.

"Liara does."

And Liara grabs Jane by the crook of her elbow, pulling her off the bar stool and dragging her away.

* * *

...

* * *

"So. Thought you didn't know who your father was." Jane waits for an answer, and reaches for the controls of the skycab with a shrug. A white gloved hand slaps her hands away.

"I've only met her in the past year," Liara explains.

And then goes silent. Jane leans back in the seat, the skyline of Nos Astra speeding past them, turning her gaze to the asari and letting her eyes do the rest.

"Okay," Liara says, and sighs, "I didn't just inherit Benezia's estates and majority stock in Binary Helix. I also inherited her contacts. I've spent the last year finding out I am a _very_ good networker and information broker."

Liara sighs again. Perhaps she's having trouble breathing, Jane asks herself.

"I was...distressed...to find out how many of her old contacts were of the opinion that 'Saren had a point before he _went too far,_' and since I was Benezia's daughter, I would automatically agree with them." She purses her lips. "Some of them...the more _ardent_ defenders of that opinion...have been disabused of that notion."

"Kicked them in the nuts?" Jane asks.

"Repeatedly," she says, "If they had them. Otherwise, I punched them in the face."

"Glad to know I rubbed off on you," Jane says. She doesn't see Liara's cheeks turn a darker blue.

"Anyway," Liara continues, "I decided to find my father. I found out that she had left Thessia and settled on Illium, and went there to find her. I found her as the bartender at Eternity, and introduced myself."

"And?"

"And almost immediately, this turian began hitting on me. Aethyta threw him across the lounge."

Liara leans back. The contours of the seat soften, the seat leaning back as she folds her hands on her stomach.

"We talked," she says, "For hours. Days. I found out quite a...bit...about Benezia. And my extended family. And about her, as well. My father's an interesting...person and has lived a...storied...life." Liara purses her lips. "I have a sister. Who's part Hanar."

"Huh."

"My reaction, too."

Jane nods, sitting back.

"Well, at least you have your Dad. Happy you met him?"

"Very," Liara responds, "Very much so. I thought she abandoned Benezia and me, but it turned out to be so much more complicated."

Jane nods, again. Cocks her head slightly, turns to Liara.

"That's the term, right? It's 'Dad'? Not 'other Mom?'"

"No. Only if the partner's human," Liara responds, "Not if it's Asari. We don't have genders."

"Boobs say otherwise."

In sequence, Liara blushes, smiles, and pinches the bridge of her nose with a light, airy laugh.

"You're a filthy person, Jane Shepard. I could explain, and I could go in detail about my theories which I've already explained to you, but you're just doing this because you like getting a reaction out of me. Because you are a filthy, filthy person."

"And yet you keep me around," Jane responds, squeezing Liara's shoulder.

"I think it's because I was sheltered," Liara says, shaking her head with a sigh, "I should have been a stripper like my school friends. I'd probably be more worldly if I did."

"Never too late to start. Think the old Normandy'd have been more interesting if you did shows."

Liara coughs. A buzzing, a similar buzzing that she got off of Miranda when she said who she worked for, that she got off of Liara when she asked about Kaidan. The smile fades, and Jane turns to her friend.

And the seat shakes as the car lands.

"Miranda went ahead of us," Liara says, climbing out as the chassis folds up, opening up to the tower in front of them, "She's relaying information from her sources to a contact of mine at a star charting company. With luck, this may get us a fix on the Broker's location."

The building is large, but still overshadowed by the towers and spires, by the regular skyscrapers. She estimates ten, maybe twelve stories. Hell, she could probably jump it.

Jane nods. Still feels the buzzing, but mainly when thinking about _Lazarus_. She knows that Lawson is bullshitting her, somehow. But she's not sure how.

"I'll go in," Liara says, "Wait by the car. Just in case."

Jane nods, watching Liara climb up the steps, and turns to her left hand as she hears the steady beep of an incoming call. She taps her wrist, the earpiece in her ear crackling, and she hears a familiar, very welcome voice.

"_Where are you? I'm _on_ Illium right now!"_

"Good. Baria Frontiers. Twenty minutes."

The call ends. She smirks, partially from looking forward to seeing them. Partially because it gives an escape plan if things go pear shaped. Partially because-

"Shepard?"

She turns. No buzzing. An asari with dark blue skin, and swaths of purple framing her face approaches her. She's in armor, specialized armor. Plated, hiding her figure, ammo pouches on her right arm and left leg. She feels naked now. Realizes that she's only in her alliance blues, and doesn't even have a pistol.

"Yeah?" Jane asks.

"Heard rumors you were alive," the asari says, and extends her hand, "Tela Vasir. Special Tactics and Recon."

"Spectre?" Jane asks, shaking her hand, "I don't think we've met."

"Nope," Vasir says, and shrugs, "Well, hopefully we'll work together. Have you checked in with the council, yet?"

Jane shakes her head.

"I just got off Alchera two days ago."

"I'll get in touch with Tevos for you," Vasir responds, "If you want to. I don't think a single Spectre would object. You raised the general morals of the Spectres when you convinced Saren to put a bullet in his brain. Pretty sure you'd have had a queue of people waiting to shoot him afterwards, though."

Jane chuckles. No buzzing. The asari's completely honest.

"What brings you here?" Vasir asks.

"I'm helping a friend with something," Jane responds, "Then probably heading to the Citadel. You read my reports, I guess?"

Vasir nods. The smile fades.

"Yeah. We all did. Sparatus is in denial, Tevos is cautious, Valern is peeing himself. Herself. Can't tell." She leans against the car, folding her arms. "We all believe you, though. Saren was the type to bullshit his reports. You seem more straight and narrow."

Jane nods. "I try."

"We could all try harder," Vasir says, "I'm here working with a contact. I might be able to help you if my job finishes quick. Who's your friend?"

Jane nods towards the building.

"One of my crewmates aboard the Normandy," she responds, "Liara T'Soni."

Vasir's eyes shift towards the building. Her smile disappears.

"Shit."

And the middle three floors of the building erupt in flame. The shockwave hits like a sledgehammer. People scream. Jane feels the pit of her stomach drop, harden, and sit.

"Fuck," Vasir swears, "Your friend's in danger. I'll take my car up top and work my way down. You take the ground floor!"

No buzzing at all from Vasir. None at all. Whatever she said, she was completely honest. And with that small comfort, Jane runs towards the burning building.

* * *

...

* * *

Run. She has to run. Skids to a stop at the ground floor, sees the debris, sees the bodies. Workers, tourists. **Innocents.**

Her teeth grind, her eyes narrow. Blood pumping in her ears, and something inside her tells her that the person responsible **has to die.**

The wounded scream. The dead are still. The fires burn on the third floor. And she drops, knees bending, a slow inhale of smoke and ash filled air as she draws in _something_ around her. The ground cracks, the cement she stands on shatters, and she leaps.

Two floors pass in a blur. Her hand darts out, grabs cement, and she vaults over the balcony and onto the third floor, into fire and water, into the sounds of shouting and gunfire.

Walls become paper. Fire becomes warm air against her face. And she savors the look of shock on the gun toting merc's face right before her fist meets his face.

* * *

...

* * *

It took, at most, five minutes. Twelve dead Blue Suns gun for hires around her feet. Five dead civilians. Two humans, a turian, an asari, a salarian. Calmly, she walks over to each one, takes in the look of shock, horror on their faces. They didn't expect to die this day.

No one here did.

One by one, she closes seventeen sets of eyes, and walks out, vaulting up the stairs.

She doesn't see all seventeen corpses ignite into golden fire.

* * *

...

* * *

"No. No, what I mean is that it's gone _completely to shit."_

She rolls her eyes. Even triple encrypted, even in the middle of a warzone, even using the most specialized communications equipment they can manage, she isn't comfortable relaying information unless it's face to face. Miranda Lawson is an exacting woman. As is her methods.

Her gun rings out, the custom pistol she carries. Blood splatters on the wall, and the gunman slides down. More chatter. Code, she understands.

"Yes sir, I'm aware we need Shepard. I'm aware we need T'Soni. But Shepard is outside of the original parameters. I sent a team and...yes, I am aware you didn't approve. I was anticipating the situation when T'Soni confirmed Shepard was alive."

More code. Clicks. A Morse Code variant they use for mostly secure communication.

"Understood. We can talk via kewseesee when this is over. I'm going to suggest it, yes. Shakedown."

Knees pump, and she stands, turning around to face the blown out window and waist high wall, firing two shots which catch two gunmen in the face.

"Busy. Miranda out."

Vaulting over the divider, she runs for the elevator. Distractions, distractions.

* * *

...

* * *

The helmet of one gunman cracks under her fist. He drops, kicked across the room into a second gunman. Orders are shouted, at this point out of fear more than anything due to the dozen or so other gunman dying on the ground behind her.

She really needs a gun.

Five more in the room. She rolls her neck.

Fires rage around them. Something clicks in the ceiling and it begins to rain. She sidesteps bullets, time going liquid. Moves between raindrops, catching one attacker under the jaw with her fist and rises. He flies, hitting the ceiling, dropping to the floor. The second shoots at her with his pistol, his omnitool glowing on his left hand, extending into a knife, and he rushes.

She focused on the gun. She grunts as she feels the knife stab her. Stab at her. Or _try _to. Looking down, Jane sees the point of the glowing orange blade pressing against her gut, pressing against skin, parting cloth but failing to do more than jam the top of the blade right next to her navel.

Another grunt. His. He tries to push the blade in, failing, as the room goes silent with the other gunmen watching.

He looks up. She cocks an eyebrow.

"I can't believe I'm asking this," she says, "But are you in yet?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he receives her fist to his face, dropping him to the ground, his gun hovering in the air for the split second she needs to grab it. She aims one handed and fires, dropping two of the gunmen, firing at the third and hearing the **click click** of an empty gun.

Pursing her lips, she presses the button on the back of the gun, watching the thermal clip drop to the ground, steam from the fire control system wafting off of it. Looking down, she sees the red on her jacket, lifting it up and seeing the blood leaking from the wound on her stomach. Pressing her index and thumb to either side, she squeezes, squeezing the wound shut. And releasing, sees only a pale scab.

A muffled yell, and she sees that the last gunman has rediscovered his manhood and opens fire with his pistol, hypersonic slugs flying in the air towards her. Instinct takes over, and she twists her hand, sliding one slug along the barrel, sending it into the floor. The second slides across the other side, into the wall by the door. The third deflects off the lip of the barrel and hits the ceiling.

She moves with her hand, the gun dancing through the air, extending her free hand as she steps forward, turns, and lets go.

The pistol flies true, and smashes into the face mask of the final gunman, sending him down with nary a sound.

Silence reigns, save for coughs and groans from unconscious mercs, and the strangled whispers form bystanders just now peaking from behind cover. She spots them first. Extending a finger towards them, she catches their eyes.

"Stay here," she says. They nod, wide eyes, grateful faces. And she runs out.

On the floor, the knife of his omniblade broken, the gunman painfully depresses the button on the side of his helmet.

"Delta Team, this is Mahoney," he groans, "Shepard just beat the shit out of seventeen of us with her bare hands. She fucking dodged bullets."

"_Are you for real, Mahoney?"_ the voice on the other end barks, "_Stop bullshitting me. She's here right now and we'll OH WHAT THE FU-"_

And the line goes to static.

* * *

...

* * *

She expected to find armed opposition on the 7th floor. She expected gunfire, shouting, explosions. Liara T'Soni was ready for a prolonged fight. She has her concentration on her biotics, her hand motions set at reflexive, her thermal clip fully cooled.

She didn't expect a line of white armored gunmen sitting, their backs against a wall, hands bound and their unloaded guns sitting in front of them.

She can't help but think that Shepard was here ahead of her.

She runs ahead, thumbing the safety of her pistol, taking stairs two at a time. She's running out of time. She recognizes the white armor, too. Saw Blue Suns, but the white armor is the Broker's personal wetworks squad. She barely lived through her last encounter with them. Whatever Shepard can do, she welcomes the help.

She acknowledges that Shepard, that _Jane,_ is different. That she has abilities which her rational, educated mind can barely comprehend, much less explain. But where the rational part of her mind fails to grasp the implications, the emotional part tells her that for all the changes, all the power, she is still _Jane Shepard._ And that is enough.

Eighth floor. Baria Frontiers. She has her contact here. With luck, he's still alive.

Sprinting, she hears movement, brings up her gun. Finds herself aiming at Miranda.

"You're late," Lawson says, and pulls back her pistol, "Shepard?"

"Haven't seen her," Liara says, "Sekat. He's a salarian and my contact. Did you give him the information?"

Miranda nods.

"That's when the bombs started going off," she responds, walking with the asari, towards the green lit door on the other end of the hallway, passing broken glass and whimpering gunmen, "I can't help but think that the Broker might be gunning for you."

"I did cost him a lot of resources," Liara says, smirking, "On three."

They flatten their backs on either side of the door. Liara nods, and Miranda's fist intersects the green circular hologram. Metal against metal, and the door slides open, both women training their guns. And lowering them when they see the white armored man embedded head first in the ceiling, and the two waiting for them.

"...so like I was saying," Jane says, "Eventually, they just started surrendering. I kicked a couple to keep them good and fearful, but most of them will be in good enough shape to talk."

The other person, another Asari, nods with a smirk.

"Good idea," she says, and nods towards the door, "Friends?"

"Yep." Jane turns, twirling a pistol on her right index finger, "Liara, Miranda, this is Tela Vasir. I ran into her downstairs. Figured we could use some help."

Liara nods, shoulder slumping as she holsters her pistol.

"Sekat?" she asks.

On cue, a salarian looks up from behind an upturned desk, laptop computer balancing on one hand. His green suit is streaked with black suit and purple, his face a mass of worry lines and dirt.

"Safe, thank you," he says, "Gunman was trying to shoot me. Then your human friend showed up and put his head through the ceiling. In lieu of that, I think I'm doing this job pro bono."

He balances the keyboard on the upturned desk, lips tight.

"I think I may have narrowed it down to a sector," he says, "Hourglass Nebula at least. Faryar or Sowilo." He taps something. A disc pops out, the salarian catching it. "Who's got it?"

Vasir raises her hand first. Sekat tosses it, closing his computer as Vasir catches it.

"Okay," Shepard says, "We done?"

Vasir nods. And then swings her arm, a wave of blue light catching Jane in the chest and tossing her into Liara and Miranda, sending all three to the ground. She turns to Sekat, who sighs, puts his hands on his head, and ducks behind the desk.

"Damn it," Vasir says, pulling out her pistol, "Bastard doesn't do me enough favors to kill a damn _hero._"

Three shots hit the window, shattering the glass, and she leaps, an aura of blue surrounding her as she floats towards the ground. In the office, Miranda untangles herself first, climbing to her feet.

"She's working for the Shadow Broker!" she yells.

"Really?" Liara asks, "I'd never have known that!"

Jane, on the other hand, runs and leaps out the window, arm pulled back and falling towards Vasir, who looks up just in time to catch a fist across her jaw.

Vasir goes spinning, grabbing Jane by the collar, the field around her crackling and going opaque before accelerating and slamming them both into the ground. Vasir bounces with the impact, somersaulting through the air and landing in a crouch. She turns, gapes, and closes her mouth as she sees Jane flip onto her feet.

"How the Hell..."

"My secret," Jane says, brushing off her shoulder, "Gimme the disc and I won't beat your ass, Vasir."

The asari smirks. She rolls her head, falling to a half crouch. Palming the disc, a compartment on her arm guards opens and the disc slides in.

"Is that a bet?" she asks, hands sliding out in front of her, one foot sliding behind the other.

Jane steps back. Instinct takes over. Her arms wheel out and fall into position in front of her. Something whispers the steps in her ear, the positions, the placement of hands. Even the challenges, as Jane sees Vasir turn one palm upward, and twitch her index finger.

Jane moves. It is the best way to describe it, as no step was visible, only that she was at one point standing where she was, and the next moment in front of Vasir. Her fist burns through the air, hitting only the space where Vasir's head was, feeling the ozone crackle of her shield as the asari dances around her punch, swinging Jane's arm aside with a palm strike to the elbow, her hand balling to a fist and the back of her hand striking Jane on the nose.

A blast of blue hits Jane in the chest and tosses her through the air, the roar of an engine filling the air as the gold and red skycar rises above them, door open.

"Love to play," Vasir says, "But I have a favor to repay." She taps her brow, smirking. "Bye."

She flashes blue, and disappears, a streak of light through the air becoming her in the car's driver seat. Doors close, jets fire, and the car speeds into the Illium night.

"Damn it!" Gunfire, and Jane flips onto her feet, watching Liara chase the car with her pistol roaring.

"We need a car," Miranda says, skidding to a stop, "We can't let her get away!"

Jane cracks her knuckles as the orange light beeps on her omnitool.

"Problem solved. I got us a ride."

A dark red sky car drops, coming to a stop in front of them. A blast of steam and the chassis rises.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that the car Liara was shooting at is the one you want me to _chase,_ right?"

Adjusting his cap, the bearded, sharp eyed human in the driver's seat smirks, catching Jane's grin, Liara's curious gaze, and the look of utter confusion on Miranda's face.

"Can you catch up to her?" Jane asks, climbing into the passenger's seat, "She has info we need."

Jeff "Joker" Moreau rolls his eyes, fingers already tapping on the controls.

"Yeah, it's no Normandy, but I can do this. Pile in, ladies."

The chassis closes as they climb into the back seat, car shaking slightly as it rises from the street. Engines hum and the jets on the back of the car spurt to life, the skycar rising into traffic and in pursuit.

"Joker," Liara says, "What were you doing on Illium?"

"I could tell you," Joker responds, "But then you'd smack me. Hold on."

The engines ignite, and the car speeds off in chase.

* * *

...

* * *

Liara works fast, clicking the belts into place. One at her waist, two around her shoulders, clicking the center lock and tightening all five parts of the safety harness. She closes her eyes, sucks her teeth, and is rewarded with a puzzled look from Miranda.

"T'Soni, what are you-"

She finds herself interrupted when gravity reverses and she falls to the car's ceiling.

The skyline of Illium passes by, upside down. Rolling onto her stomach, Miranda finds herself struggling to be snarky, biting, or observant as she realizes that the pilot is weaving through traffic _upside down._

She settles for screaming.

"Get us close!" Jane yells, "Then I can jump over and punch her engine!"

"Really?" Joker asks, "Shepard are you _sure?"_

"I came back from Alchera with super powers, Joker."

A pause. The pilot sucks his teeth, and finally shrugs.

"Okay. That's cool. Always wanted Power Girl as a drinking buddy."

* * *

...

* * *

Engines flare. The car dips upwards, rotating as it flies up and through the traffic, turning on its side and passing between lanes of skycars. Accelerating, it shoots above them, rolling and passing through uncoming traffic, dipping out of the ever present cloud of vehicles and in pursuit of the red and black craft.

And with Miranda Lawson falling onto the floor. The car shifts again, and she rises into the air as it rolls, and accelerates to drop her onto the seat. She rights herself, glaring at the pilot the entire time, climbing into her seat before Liara pops out of her harness and pushes her aside.

"There she is!" Liara yells, as Miranda silently buckles herself in, "Go! Gogogo!"

Joker says nothing. He pops open the compartment next to him, pulling out a black clutch and jamming his thumb on the red button atop it. Liara is given approximately a second to realize what the button is for before she's slammed back into the acceleration couch.

Jets ignite on the back, a plume of flame larger than the car as the engines ignite and sending it shooting towards the target in a manner not dissimilar to a missile.

"I'm guessing this isn't a standard model!"

He tries to keep his attention on Jane's _hands_, as they're currently wrapped around the armrests of the acceleration couch as the speedometer begins to double fault.

"Not my car, actually," Joker responds, hearing two sets of screams in the back as they dip underneath an oncoming truck, "Turns out to be Garrus's! He let me borrow it while he's away doing something!"

"_Garrus?"_

"Yeah. Judging from the car, I think he had another career planned out as the _Kool Aid Man!"_

They pass the traffic, Joker rolling the car sideways, a speeding airbus between them and Vasir's car.

"My stop!" Jane yells, "Flank her!"

Jane pops her belt, the roof folding open, and she jumps out. Shooting out like an arrow, she spins in mid air, landing on the bus and leaps across it and onto Vasir's car, which careens off.

"Okay," Joker says, "On a 1 to 10, that's a 7 on the Superhero Entrance Scale."

The roof closes, Joker turning back to the traffic as they enter the tunnel. And sees why Miranda and Liara are now both screaming.

"Truck!" Liara screams.

"Yeah," Joker sighs.

"TRUCK!" Miranda shrieks, grabbing the back of his seat.

"I see it!"

* * *

...

* * *

A century of work as one of the premier special operations soldiers in the galaxy has given her the poise and calmness to keep from swearing until her throat was raw. Tela Vasir is not a happy person. For the past hundred years, she's had a very strictly defined business relationship with the Shadow Broker. He gives her the information she needs to keep the galaxy safe, and she takes care of threats to his organization.

And now he asked her to _kill a hero._ She's going to have a talk with him.

And then maybe talk about how an unarmed, unarmored woman made a complete mockery of a Blue Suns squadron and his own personal wetworks group.

Possibly while laughing at him. If she can get to him, of course.

Her musings end and she looks up at her hood. Impossibility mounts on impossibility. Jane Shepard stands on her car, and standing on it at the high speeds despite having no armor. The redhead smile, and brings her fist back.

Vasir, on the other hand, brings her foot down on the accelerator, and the human spectre hits the windshield and bounces.

"Damn it," she growls.

And she screams that louder when the roof dents. And again.

* * *

...

* * *

The skycar scrapes against the sides of the tunnel, sparks flying off its side as it accelerates and leaves the exploding truck behind it. Three more vehicles, narrower, single engines blazing on their backs, guns extending from their front, fly over it.

"She has company!" Liara shouts, "What kind of weapons does this car have?"

Joker shrugs, and taps a button on the right side of the console.

The back part of the car's roof opens, and a rocket fires out. A second later, and it explodes into a swarm of mini missiles, blowing up two of the pursuing craft.

"Well it _is_ Garrus's car..."

The tunnel speeds past and becomes the skyline once again. And all three scream as the gunship drops out from above.

The car banks. He hears the two women bounce against the side, the missiles flying past his own side, the shields of the skycar fizzling as bullets impact it.

A missile hits, sheering off a chunk of the armor. He doesn't hear screaming. Instead, he hears the wind whipping past, turns around, and sees the back seat empty.

"Oh what the shit-"

The car dives, accelerating towards the two figures falling towards Illium below. Bullets race past the car, gunship and fighter in pursuit. The car bobs, weaves, dodging between traffic, sliding between cars, the fighter colliding with a bus and exploding with the gunship still in pursuit.

Instincts take over. Instincts her will admit are not the _smartest_ ones to use with a car, but instincts nonetheless. He taps one button. A compartment on the back opens and a pellet fires out, hitting the windshield of the gunship and covering it with a thick, black liquid, sending it flying blindly as the liquid nitrogen cracks the windshield, shorts the radar, and sends it slamming into an oncoming truck.

Another button, and the chassis opens up, the wind tearing Joker's cap off his head, gently pulling the nose of the car up, eyes closed against the window and operating by instinct, by muscle memory. And the chassis closes as the car rises back into pursuit.

He turns, grabs his hat from the floor, and looks at the two women in the back seat. They stare back at him, eyes wide open, Liara's face a pale teal.

"Buckle up," Joker says.

Nodding, they quickly do so, and Joker floors the accelerator.

* * *

...

* * *

Against her better judgement, Tela Vasir opens fire at the roof of her own car.

It is not a legal model, but she's a Spectre and that means she has zero fucks to give.

It starts with a base model Phalanx Hand Cannon, modded with a variant on the trigger system of the Revenant machine gun, combined with a rotating heat sink holster that air cools each sink after the point of overheating, essentially giving her the best of both worlds; unlimited ammunition combined with higher firing speed.

Again, highly illegal.

But she's a Spectre.

So fuck you.

What this means practically, however, is that she currently has a patch of bullet holes stitching the roof of her car, letting in the artificial light of the skyline, and at the same time managing to completely miss the other Spectre currently repeatedly punching the roof.

"Get off my fucking car!"

Jerking her head to the side, she narrowly misses being punched by the human hand which grabs at her, before pulling back to the staccato of more automatic hand cannon gunfire. Vasir yanks the wheel to the side, the car rolling, bare human fingers digging into the roof from outside.

Swearing, she tosses her gun onto her passenger seat, grabs the wheel with both hands, and slams the accelerator to the floor. Pushes back into her acceleration couch, the speedometer faults as the rockets kick in.

And then, the rockets at the _front_ of the car fire. The speedometer shuts off. The belts tightened around her strain and she feels the breath violently force its way out of her lungs. And she hears one, two bounces before Jane Shepard goes flying forward, and _off her damn car._

On some level, Vasir swears at herself as she watches Shepard, a fellow Spectre, go spinning through the air, into the traffic that will no doubt kill her. On that same level, she then stars swearing as she sees Shepard land on the hood of a car. A dark red, custom skycar, with a hole in its side which she can clearly see T'Soni through. _The same damn car that started this damned chase._

Grinding her teeth, Vasir guns the engines. Jets flare, the engine roars, and her custom skycar speeds towards the apparently invincible _newbie spectre. _She can see Shepard bracing against the hood. She would say that Shepard is being stupid and suicidal, but Vasir has seen enough shit today to say with certainly that a certain red headed human is now planning to drop kick her own upgraded skycar.

The engines roar. The human pilot, who Vasir will admit is pretty damned good himself, has gotten the idea. Numbers tick up on the speedometer. The VI aboard her car warns of imminent collision. She can see Shepard brace, jump off with enough force to buckle the hood, and leap towards her.

And Vasir grins as she sees the dumbfounded look on the girl's face as her car dips and accelerates, passing right underneath Shepard and sending her flailing towards the hotel behind them. Ah, humans, she thinks. So new to the concept of three dimensional traffic.

She sees Shepard land on the roof of the hotel in a crouch. Vasir taps her brow, winking at her, and guns the engine. If she hurries, she can make her ship and get to the Citadel. Maybe get that secretive asshat's attention and that _is right when the controls go dark._

"What the f-"

The car dips, going into freefall for a moment. And then begins to accelerate, turning in the direction of the hotel.

A mechanical, ratcheting, stuttering click sounds from behind her.

She turns, and stares into an unblinking light that twitches, meeting her gaze. Attached to the light is a long, smooth head, two plates surrounding the light shifting and raising in a motion she is not sure about, but may be in imitation of a raised eyebrow.

"_Vasir Spectre. The cybersecurity suite of your personal vehicle requires updating."_

* * *

...

* * *

Jane climbs to her feet. She should feel worse after dropping off a car and landing like this, but despite the cracked concrete around her, she feels fine. Frisky, even. Looking up at the sound of the shriek, she realizes it comes not from a person but a vehicle. Vasir's, in particular.

She watches the car slam into concrete, grinding across the roof, and right towards her.

"Like Christmas," she says.

She takes a step forward. Palming her right fist into her left hand, she braces her left foot, her heel grinding concrete, wearing down the sole of her boot. Something gathers at her fingertips, aiming with her left hand, bringing back her right fist.

And she sees the whites of Vasir's eyes right before she drives her fist into the skycar's hood.

The sound of the impact drowns out the roar of the engine. The skidding, speeding car comes to a stop as the force of the blow compresses metal, plastics, and drives the hood deep into the engine, a fist shaped indentation jammed deep into delicate engineering.

And the glass of the windshield shatters outwards, as a certain Asari spectre is sent flying through it.

Vasir screams. Jane turns from the car to her, watching her fly through the air, arms pinwheeled. A flash of blue, and Vasir becomes a sphere of aqua light, slamming into the ground hard enough to crack concrete, and slowly rises from a crouch.

"_Shepard Commander!"_ The side door of the air car opens, and Wuffles steps out. "_We have secured Vasir Spectre's vehicle!"_

"What the _Hell," _Vasir growls, rolling her neck, "What the _Hell_ are you?"

"_We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Ge-"_

"Not _you,"_ Vasir yells, pointing an accusing finger at Jane, "You! How in the..._how?"_

Jane grins. She grabs her belt, rolling her shoulders, and takes a step back. Instinct takes over, instinct not hers, the balls of her feet grinding concrete as she raises her right fist by her face, her left hand hovering at her waist. Her hips shift, her body fluid.

"I'm not too sure on the _what's_ yet, Vasir," she says, "But what I do know? I know that I'm the one who's gonna _kick your ass."_

Vasir snorts. She rolls her head, smirks, and spits to her side.

"Really? Because I've been doing this three times longer than you've been alive, junior," she responds, "I'm going to kick your ass. I am going to _build the machine_ that kicks your ass. I am going to _conquer Palaven_ to _raise the empire_ that _houses the machine_ that _kicks your ass."_

The blue mist around her shakes, crackles, and becomes aqua lightning. An aura of biotic power rises around her, her eyes two glowing white slits.

"Now let's go."

* * *

...

* * *

The car sets down gently, the chasis opening up as two sets of seat belts release and two women stumble out. Well, in Liara's case, she crawls out of the shuttle on her hands and knees. Miranda makes it two steps before falling to her knees and staring at the ground.

"Oh come on. It's better than the Mako."

Joker hobbles out, fixing his cap as he clicks his omnitool at the skycar and letting it beep as it turns off.

"We," Liara says, and coughs, slowly climbing to her feet, "We need to get to Shepard. We should see if we can help. Maybe."

"I mean, yeah," Joker says, "Be a shame if Shepard tires herself out, repeatedly hitting the bad guy with their own car or something."

They begin walking, towards the smoke where Vasir's car crashed. Slowly, Joker's face twists. His smile becomes a smirk, then a wince, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze wanders over the rooftop. Over the glass enclosures, over the signs. And at the sphere which rises out of the floor and approaches them.

"Where are we?" Miranda asks.

"Azure," Liara responds, "It's a resort hotel for people with...exotic tastes. It's a slang for-"

"_Mister Moreau."_

The sphere hovers in front of Joker. White, round, a blue irising light on its front.

"_Welcome back. You weren't scheduled until Thursday, but since this is your eleventh visit in two weeks, this visit is free! Congratulations."_

Joker rubs the back of his neck, feeling Miranda and Liara's gazes on him.

"_Currently available theme rooms are 'Negotiations with the Councillor,' 'Thessian Catholic School Girls' and 'Weekend on Kahje.' Would those be to your tastes, or would you like something custom?"_

"Well, I'm here on a mission with a Spectre-"

"_Ah, yes. The 'Commander Shepard.' Let me get the costumes."_

The sphere rips down, the round hole in the floor irising shut.

"What?" Joker asks, "I have needs."

* * *

...

* * *

Something is buzzing at the back of her head. Something like a voice, hints, suggestions. Yelling in the back of her skull from someone, something. Voices like hers by not her own.

Which is enough that it distracts her for that split second for Vasir to disappear in a burst of blue, reappear and catch Jane across the face with her shin. The impact rocks her vision, spins her around, and sends her through the air.

She twists in flight. She turns with nimbleness she shouldn't have, with grace that shouldn't be there, and grinds her heels into concrete until she feels it brushing against the backs of her bare feet. Rolling her head, Jane feels her shoulders and neck pop, and pushing off her right foot. She runs, leaps, and punches. And sees the amusement on Vasir's face as the asari sidesteps, dancing around her.

An armored fist comes up into Jane's stomach, pushing the wind from her lungs. Another fist comes towards her face, but she dodges, bobbing to the side, bending backwards to dodge the kick and getting her feet swept out from under her for her trouble.

A flash of blur, the biotic shockwave hitting her in the side, and she goes flying, slamming her back into the wall with enough force to leave a cracked outline before falling to her knees. A cough, and Jane wipes blood from her lip, spitting a wad of red as Vasir slowly walks over.

"Give up, Shepard?" Vasir asks, "Or are you thirsty for more?"

Jane climbs to her feet, cracking her knuckles.

"I can do this all day, blueberry."

She begins bouncing off her heels, smirking.

"Let's dance, girl."

Vasir smirks.

"Seen the reports, Shepard. Wouldn't inflict your dancing on anyone."

Vasir moves first. Kicking off, she leaps, blue crackling around her, forming into a sphere and appearing behind Shepard. She ducks, the kick knocking a handful of red strands out of place, Shepard turning, momentum carrying her legs into one of Vasir's knees and knocking her off her feet.

Vasir glows again, appearing behind Shepard. A low kick, Jane pushing herself up off her hands, spinning over Vasir's kick and landing in a crouch.

"So," Jane says, "Kill a lot of people for the Broker, or is this a new thing?"

She ducks, kick going over her head. Two punches from Vasir. One Jane dodges, the other hits her in the jaw and sends her stumbling back.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like some sort of murderer," Vasir growls, "The people I've killed _had_ to die."

No buzzing. Well, Jane thinks. That's a first.

She weaves. Let's the instincts guide the moves, dancing between Vasir's punches.

"So you _didn't_ like the whole 'having to kill a galactic hero' thing?"

Fist connects with her jaw. She turns with it, making a full turn and deflecting a kick off her forearm. Looks past the leg, sees the asari's face twisting and her face dark blue, her teeth grinding and eyes narrowed.

"I've worked with the Broker for a hundred years," she yells, "He gave me intel and I used that to _put down threats to the galaxy!_ Anyone I've ever killed are people who were trying to compromise his network, going after his agents, or going after him! I've done what I've done to _keep the galaxy safe!"_

No buzzing, Jane thinks, ducking under a kick. Either she's telling the truth, or she _honestly believes_ that she's telling the truth.

"Damn it," Vasir yells, grabbing Jane by the collar, "_I am not Saren!"_


	3. Solar Hero Style

Geth do not infiltrate.

At least, Geth normally do not, but they are prepared to infiltrate if the situation calls for it. In the majority of situations, infiltration is not necessary, as organics will accept the concept of a Platform walking amongst them, and rationalize that it is not Geth.

While very few sentients have seen Geth with their own eyes, and the concept of hardware destruction is different for Geth than it is for organics, they consider that it is better to be safe than it is sorry. Which is an odd expression among organics, but one that the Geth have found easy to understand.

To this extent, the projectors built into its chassis come to life. Junk data is sent into the surveillance cameras in the elevator as the floors tick down, replacing the image of the blue and gray Geth platform with that of a quarian male in a black, red piped encounter suit. This matches the current inhabitant of the elevator as well, as the projectors finish layering over the hologram.

Geth do not infiltrate. But it is better for the long term viability of this mission that it does, as it does not wish to be shot again. Being shot at is not tactically optimal in enclosed terrain.

Soft music plays. Wuffles, Terminal of the Geth, sways from side to side. It rolls its shoulders, glancing from side to side.

Consensus has been achieved. Elevators are slow.

Glancing to the side, his optical sensor irises, the light narrowing. A simple scan of the elevator begins cataloging secretions on the walls, floor, and ceiling of the elevator.

Consensus achieved. Elevators are also likely to be used for reproduction or reproduction-based recreation. As well, the Azure hotel saves money by using lower quality cleaning products.

Catalogued species: Asari; Human; Krogan; Quarian; Turian; Varren.

Filing away the data, Wuffles, Terminal of the Geth, walks out of the elevator as the doors open and into the lobby of Azure. 117 programs monitor the fight between Shepard Commander and Vasir Spectre through a drone left on the roof. Shepard Commander is in no danger.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Audio receptors pick up the voice. Quarian. Accent sourced to _Rayya_ subculture. Voice matched to vocal samples of interest from Heretic database. Match confirmation: 97%.

Adjusting for maturation and emotional growth.

Match confirmation: 99%.

He follows the source of the voice, walking through the lobby and to the front desk, the circular series of terminals with an Asari currently speaking with two quarians.

"I don't want to _Commander Shepard Special,_" the quarian woman says, hands braced on the desk, two glowing purple eyes narrowed, "I'm looking for _Commander Shepard._ Her omnitool's identity protocol has located her at this building!"

Visual profile recognition software analyzes the quarian woman. Hip curve matches. Silhouette profile matches. Mammary size adjusted for 1 years maturation and increased nutrition. Visual profile matches with audio confirmation. Match confirmation: 100%.

"I'm sorry," the asari says, shrugging, facial expression matching known tells for _frustration,_ and _confusion_, with minor tells for _boredom_ and _needing to use restroom,_ "But we don't have a Shepard on the registrar. Is this someone you know?"

The quarian male rubs the back of his neck.

"How exactly does the Commander Shepard Special involve a Krogan..."

"We had a Krogan on the crew, Prazza," the quarian female says, spinning around to level a finger at him, "Don't go into it."

"_Tali Zorah nar Rayya?"_

The quarian female turns. Visual profile updated. Hood style has changed from previously most recent image. Encounter suit updated from Q716 style to Q726 style. Data uploaded to Consensus.

"Yes?" she asks, and pauses, eye focus indicating her visually examining the platform, "Can I help you?"

"_You are looking for Shepard Commander."_

Program that has piggybacked into her suit reports accelerated heartrate.

"Yes!" she says, "You've seen her?"

"_Yes. She is on the rooftop of this building. Do you wish to go to her?"_

She nods. Consensus achieved. Primary purpose overlap with secondary purpose. 1) aid Shepard Commander combines with 2) observe and communicate with Creators.

And to that extent, Wuffles then grabs Tali'Zorah by the waist and pulls her close, locking one arm around her waist to hold her in place, his other hand securing her lower body to his platform via her right gluteal.

"Hey!" Prazza yells, pulling out his pistol, "Just a moment-"

_Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Deluxe Edition. Setting: In Service of Palaven. Intensity: Maximum._

The quarian male freezes, eyes crossing before doubling over with a groan.

"Wait," Tali protests, "What are you-"

And she, on the other hand, gets cut off when Wuffles pumps his knees and jumps into- and through- the ceiling.

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

**Solar Hero Style**

* * *

The fist deflects off her forearm. She hits hard, Jane muses, the force of the blow forcing her to the side. She can see Vasir's face going indigo with anger. Flushed with blood and rage and yet not setting off that buzzing she gets from Liara or Miranda. She knows that Vasir's being _honest._

"So you're not Saren," Jane says, "Convince me. Because _I'm_ not the one who brought the death squads and mercs."

She blocks a punch, ducks a kick, and grunts as she receives a punch to the face, stumbling back. If she were normal, that punch would have dropped her. She's pretty sure of that.

"I didn't bring them," Vasir says, "The Broker went behind my back and sent them. _You_ brought Benezia's daughter, the terrorist, and the _Geth." _Another punch, sends her stumbling back. Her legs feel sluggish. Her jaw aches. "Well shucks, Shepard. That sounds almost exactly like what _Saren_ pulled last year!"

"I'm not-"

Another punch. She should have dodged that. Instead, she feels Vasir's fist clock her upside the jaw, loosen teeth, and send her stumbling. Her arms feel heavy. A few minutes ago she was vaulting traffic. Now, she can barely stand.

She ducks the next punch. _Terrorist._ Vasir said one of the people she brought was a _terrorist._ Joker's extranet bookmarks might be illegal, but he's not that bad. Leaving Miranda. Meaning she's going to have to sit her down and have a _long_ talk with her after this.

The moment's distraction is all Vasir needs to land a kick to her mid section, a punch to the face dropping her to her knees.

She breathes, heavy. Her vision blurs and goes double. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was dancing across traffic and now she feels like she's going to keep over any moment.

_Because you are limiting yourself._

"I have sacrificed everything to protect the Council and the galaxy," Vasir breathes, "I have set aside my own life. I have nearly died protecting these people for longer than humanity has been in _space."_

_You think this is your power._

She rises to her feet. The voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If she looked closely, maybe she could make out a face.

"You do not get to lecture me," Vasir says, "I did not unleash the _Racchni_. I did not nearly get the Council killed because I kept blowing up physical evidence and acting like the chain of command didn't _apply_ to me."

_Rise, child._

Jane smirks. She can taste the copper on her tongue. She can feel the puffiness around her left eye. Girl has a mean hook.

_And witness what you can truly do._

"Do you think you're _better_ than me?"

And time slows. Lazily, Jane raises her hand in the path of Vasir's punch. She can tell from body language, she can tell from what she can really do, that Vasir is pulling her punches. She could have killed her three times over in the last few minutes, but she's trying not to. All these attacks have been disabling attacks or knockout blows. She hasn't pulled her gun once.

And that, in that moment of clarity, is all Jane needs to make her decision. If Vasir doesn't want to kill her, then she doesn't want to kill Vasir.

And Jane's fingers wrap around the asari's fist, holding it in place.

"No, I don't," she says, "But I think you can _be better."_

And the sun traces itself upon her brow, and Vasir can only watch, eyes wide, as a pillar of golden light erupts around Jane Shepard, illuminating the rooftop and stabbing into the sky.

* * *

...

* * *

The floor bursts open. Landing in a crouch, Wuffles glances around, examining the environment. The bed identifies this as a bedroom. As does the turian reclining on it, clad in a purple silk robe, propped up by pillows. Half drained bottle of alcohol next to him, and a box of tissues.

"Hey," he says, "Nice entrance, but I didn't order Quarians."

Tali pushes Wuffles off, reaching behind her and pulling out a pistol.

"Okay," she says, "Who are you? What are you doing here, and _how did you do that?"_

He tilts his head, and his form shimmers. The quarian disguise disappears, and two metal petals rise as Tali instinctively fires. Six rounds squeeze off, followed by a spent heat sink falling to the floor. Looking down, Wuffles stares through the hole in his chest, and turns around to stare at the ruined flower vase at the other end of the bedroom.

"Okay," the turian says, "Now I'm interested."

Tali turns, leveling the gun at the turian. A single practiced motion, and a new heat sink slides in, the gun now aimed at the smirking catbird face.

"Shut. Up."

She swings back to the Geth in front of her. Despite the gun leveled at him. It. He does not panic. Instead, the light simply flickers, jerking down and then up, one metal petal on the left of the light extending.

"Who are you?"

All four metal petals extend briefly, and fold back.

"_We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."_

The quarian stares at the Geth for a long, long moment. Slowly, tilting her head to the side, the light at her mouth piece flickers, as if to speak, but no sound comes out. She bends her arm, still holding the gun, but no longer aimed directly at the Geth, as her other hand counts off her fingers.

"Wuffles," she says, "I...what. How?"

"_We were given this designation by Shepard Commander."_

"Shepard named you Wuffles."

"_That is correct."_

She continues to stare. Finally, she holsters the pistol, and shakes her head.

"That makes sense. Elevator."

"_Elevators are slow."_

"We're _taking_ an elevator," she says, walking out, "Come."

A beep, and the door to the room opens. Stumbling in, holding his shotgun in two hands, Prazza breathes heavily, leaning against the door.

"Tali," he says, "Are you all-"

A shriek, high pitched, like a little girl, and he raises his shotgun.

"_Geth! Right behind you!"_

_Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Uploading Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Setting: The Hammer of Tuchanka. Loading morphology configuration baseline: Krogan Female. Intensity: Maximum._

And Prazza collapses with a groan, curling up into a ball.

"Why do you do that?" Tali asks.

Wuffles' light twitches, staring at the moaning quarian male on the floor before them.

"_Neural overload is preferable to physical harm to the Creators. We do not wish conflict with the Creators at this time."_

Prazza groans, choking.

"Kinky," the turian adds. This, in turn, earns him a glare from Tali.

"_Additionally, this can be considered a pleasant experience for Creator Prazza, as the Nerve Stim program is the most often used program according to the encounter suit VI, concurrently with the image directory."_

Tali nods. She glances from side to side, stares at Prazza. And sighing, rests her hand against her facemask and shakes her head.

"That was far too much information," she says, "Let's go find Shepard."

"_Acknowledged, Creator Tali'Zorah."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

"You," Jane says, "Can be_ better."_

Night has become day. A pillar of gold stretching into the sky, bringing dawn to the dark city. The symbol of the sun, a solid disc of gold, sits upon her brow. Her eyes glow like freshly polished emeralds, and for all the force Vasir put behind the punch, Jane Shepard is not moved.

The pillar of light flows into the sky. It flows like molten gold but does not burn. The clasp holding her hair in a ponytail breaks, and red strands dance around her head, streaked with viridian. The light dances around her, rising, curving, collecting behind her to form a halo of gold and emerald. The halo hovers behind her, lengthening, sharpening, blades of gold stabbing the air around it.

"You can be better," Jane says, "I can _know_ if you're lying. And you've been honest with me. You didn't plan civilian deaths, you didn't bomb that building, and you didn't go into this thinking you had to kill a hero. Everything you've done, you've done because you thought it was for a greater good."

And she lets go of Vasir's hand.

"The Shadow Broker sent merc teams to find my body," Jane says, "And when they found I was alive, they tried to kill me. He's working with the Collectors, and the Collectors are the ones who _shot down my ship and tried to kill me_. Whatever deal you had with him, he's now the _enemy of the galaxy._"

Vasir winces, first. Then the surprise on her face shifts to anger, her teeth grinding beneath pulled back lips.

"You didn't pull a gun on me once," Jane says, "You could have killed me. You're _not_ Saren."

"Damn right I'm not," Vasir growls.

"Make the right choice," Jane says, "You've spent the past hundred years defending the galaxy, defending the Citadel, and defending us all. What's your answer?"

Slowly, the asari's hands ball into fists, knuckles cracking. Her shoulders tense, her eyes closing, visible pain on her face as the glow surrounding Jane begins to dim, to relax. Her hair falls limp down her back as the pillar of light finally subsides. And Tela Vasir takes Jane's hand, grabbing her wrist, and slaps the disc into her palm.

"Take that son of a bitch down," Vasir says, "He's targeting Spectres? Then my deal with him is _off._"

Jane smirks, closing her hand around the disc.

"He's on Hagalaz," Vasir says, "In the Sowilo system. I tracked his base down about twenty years ago, just in case he ever went completely rogue. His ship is in the twilight meridian, so you're going to need a ship that can sneak up on his."

Jane nods.

"And what about you?" Jane asks.

"I'm heading to the Citadel to iron this all out," Vasir says, and smirks, "And twist Tevos' arm until she gets you reinstated. Take that son of a bitch down, and take him down as the left hand of the Council. This shit doesn't stand."

* * *

...

* * *

Miranda Lawson has seen some true bullshit in her day. Her job more or less causes her to roll with it. She's made plans to restore the dead, seen life given to artificial intelligences, and used her own formidable biotic powers to alter, resist, or even break simple laws of physics in enclosed areas. But this? This is _bullshit._

There is no way, Miranda muses, that Shepard should have been able to _glow_ like that. _Light_ does not behave like that either, going liquid like it did around her. Combined with the stunts this woman pulled during the car chase, and Miranda Lawson, PhD, is beginning to wonder what _exactly_ Commander Shepard _is._

"Hey, cool," Joker says, "Aura. Always thought she needed a battle aura."

Joker hobbles ahead of them, past the dumbstruck Miranda and the gaping Liara, who he notes are probably still frazzled from him saving them after they dropped out of the skycar. Which, Garrus will probably kill him for if he ever comes back from whatever he went off to do.

"So," Joker says, "She's still standing, unlike the _last_ Spectre who pissed you off. That's a good thing?"

"Good thing," Jane says, fixing the clasp in her hair, "Gives us a problem, though. We want to get to the Broker, we need a ship, preferably one with a stealth drive, and I'm not sure I know anyone who can give us a Normandy by us asking nicely."

Which is when Miranda clears her throat.

"Commander," she says, "My organization may be able to help with that."

Next to them, the elevator to the roof opens.

"_Shepard Commander, Vasir Spectre is alive. This is unexpected."_

Wuffles is gently shoved aside as the quarian exits the elevator, running out and skidding to a stop in front of Shepard and Vasir.

"Shepard," Tali says, "I got Liara's message yesterday! My squad was over in the next sector and-"

The elevator opens again. Limping out, holding his shotgun in one hand, dragging a foot behind him, Prazza breathes heavily as he aims his gun at Wuffles.

"Got you now," he breathes, "You Geth son of a-"

Wuffles extends his head petals.

_Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Setting: The Bride of Kalros. Loading morphology configuration baseline: Thresher Maw (theoretical). Intensity: Maximum._

And Prazza collapses with but a faint squeak.

"I should be recording that," Tali says, rubbing the back of her neck.

"_We have a query, Creator Tali'Zorah."_

"Yes?"

"_We have performed this action on Creator Prazza three times. Is Creator Prazza aware that the heat sink in his weapon is unloaded?"_

Tali opens her mouth, closes it. Then, she shakes her head, turning from the curled up quarian on the roof to Shepard. Wuffles obediently follows her, standing ramrod straight behind her as she clears her throat.

"Well, now that this is done," she says, glancing at Joker as he tries to angle a peek at Vasir's _no, he couldn't be that stupid_, "And...how exactly did you get a pet Geth?"

"Long story." Jane glances at Tali, who nods, and then at the Geth, who doesn't, and shrugs. "Well, short story actually. Wuffles isn't from the Geth that attacked the Citadel last year. He's from the _other_ Geth."

"So just the Geth that drove the Quarians from their homeworld?" Miranda asks, marching over, "Shepard, we should talk." Tali cocks an eyebrow, seeing Joker angling for a look at Miranda's- "Really talk. This may not be the best place to do so."

Liara smacks Joker on the shoulder, glaring. He shrugs, adjusts his cap, and hobbles over.

"Yeah, I think so, too," Jane responds, "I think we can talk on the way back, in fact. I'll drive."

She grabs Miranda by the crook of her arm, grabs Liara by the elbow, and drags them both with her towards the dark red skycar they came in. Joker catches Liara's pleading expression, adjusts his cap, and shrugs, turning on his heel back to the Spectre, the Quarian, and the Geth.

"So," he says, "A Geth?"

"_That is correct. We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."_

"Cool," Joker responds, and turns to Vasir, "No hard feelings about the whole skychase thing, I guess? I mean, I try not to piss of Spectres. On account of the whole 'kill you with no repercussions' thing."

"I don't kill heroes," Vasir responds, faint smirk crossing her features, "Not without a damn good reason, anyway. If it helps, those jackasses shooting at you were the Broker's wetworks squad. Bet he's asking for his money back, now."

"Don't think they were anticipating the Garrusmobile. Or maybe the Claw Hammer." He scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, Claw Hammer. I'm calling the car that."

The orange omnitool glows on Tali's left arm, the quarian looking up the reference. Reference found, and her eyes go wide, and she quickly closes the interface, leaning back and forth on her heels.

"Well, I think we're _all_ heroes here," Joker responds, patting Tali on the shoulder, "I mean, there's me, there's the Invincible Super Shepard, Liara's done something which she'll write a paper on, and Tali here basically got Shepard started in the first place. Didn't you?"

"Well, I-"

"I know," Vasir says, nodding, none of them watching as Prazza crawls back into the elevator, "I mean, I've been keeping track of her. Rael can't stop talking about the work she's doing."

Tali blinks. Joker cocks an eyebrow.

"You...talk with my father?" Tali asks.

Vasir nods.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asks, "I like keeping up to date on my grandkids."

Pilot and Quarian go silent. The Geth raises a metal petal, a faint whir as it glances between Tali and Vasir. And the thoughts of man, Geth, and Quarian are summed up by Joker's short, flat,

"What."

* * *

...

* * *

"So. Miranda. Who do you work for?"

Jane Shepard is smiling, but it is not the sort of smile that one associates with 'happy,' or 'pleasant', or 'flirty.' It is a smile one associates with someone who will keep smiling as long as they're given answers, but has a crowbar ready for when the answers stop.

"I work for the Lazarus Foundation-"

Mirands squeaks, the car jerking violently. In the back seat, wind whipping from the hole in the side, Liara winces and tightens the five point harness. She knows, of course. She's seen Jane drive. Joker is sipping a cup of coffee, and Tali is staring at the screen on her omnitool, playing minesweeper.

"Eh eh, Doctor," Jane says, "I've got the magic powers, remember, and one of my magic powers is a _bullshit detector. _It goes _ding_ when there's crap, and 'Lazarus Foundation' makes it _fucking ring._ So we're going to do one of two things- Either you tell me who you work for, or I call up _Councillor Anderson_ and ask him who Miranda Lawson works for."

Liara grits her teeth. She knows what comes next. Miranda sees it out of the rear view mirror, watching the Asari close her eyes and grab the seat. And then, Miranda screams as she sees the oncoming traffic, Jane weaving the car between the beeping, high pitched horns of the incoming skycars.

"You know," Jane says, yelling over the horns, beeps, dopplering shrieks of passing engines, "I never got my driver's license! How crazy is that?"

The car rolls to its side, passing between two sport utility skycars, inches from scraping against both hulls as Miranda screams. She looks back, frantic, trying to find some succor or sympathy, and the best she gets is the tenseness on Liara's face, and Joker's bored expression as he holds the coffee cup sideways.

"I can do this all day," Jane yells, "Maybe you should start talking, but I'm all up for more of this!"

Liara opens her eyes, and immediately wishes she didn't.

"Truck," she yells.

"I see it."

"_Truck!"_

_ "I see it!"_

The car dips, passing under the speeding truck, the rush of air drowning out Miranda's scream. Her screaming pauses as she feels the finger tapping her shoulder, and she slowly turns to look into the glowing eyes of the quarian.

"Excuse me," Tali says, "What's a rational number in a repeating sequence of twenty two?"

"Cerberus!" Miranda screams.

"Not a number-"

"Cerberus!" Miranda repeats, "I work for Cerberus!"

The car jerks, passing out of the incoming traffic and back into its proper lane. The car rocks to the side, Miranda yelping as it whips her head towards the window. Which hovers less than an inch from her face, Jane's hand grabbing her shoulder.

"See," Jane says, "That wasn't so..." She pauses. Turns, glances at Miranda. "You're a _Cerberus_ scientist?"

Miranda nods. Face sweaty, brow twitching.

"How are you not dead?"

Miranda blinks. The retort dies on her lips, as she is reasonably sure a sharp retort will lead to more oncoming traffic.

"She has a point," Tali says, closing her omnitool, "Shepard how many Cerberus experiments did we stumble on, mainly to find the _subject_ had killed all the scientists and took over the base?"

"Seven," Jane says.

"And how many Cerberus experiments did we stumble on?" Tali asks.

"Eight," Jane says, "There was the Rachni."

"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Liara observes.

"And the Thorian husks."

"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Joker adds.

"And the Reaper husks."

"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Tali says.

"Those," Miranda says, clearing her throat, "Those were-"

"Do we count the _multiple_ bases the Rachni took over?" Liara asks, raising her hand.

Miranda clears her throat, louder.

"So, Tali," Joker says with a shrug, "What's the deal with you and Vasir?"

"Well, Joker, it turns out she's-"

"Those were the military branch," Miranda interrupts, "Who, I might add, were absolute fuckups, all of them. Lazarus is a dedicated research and development cell."

The car leans, slidingly slowly towards the oncoming traffic. Wisely, Miranda grabs the overhead handle.

"I appreciate the help, Miss Lawson," Jane says, "But how much of your organization _has_ been compromised by at least one of the following; The Reapers, the Shadow Broker, Rachni, Geth, Matriarch Benezia, Saren, the Spectres, the Council, or Liara?"

"Don't forget the STG!" Tali adds.

"Collectors, too," Joker says, and elbows Liara in the side, "Hey, Liara. What do you think'd happen if Cerberus made a taco cart?"

"The taco cart would kill all the scientists involved and take over the base," Liara responds, and pauses, knitting her brow, "What's a taco cart?"

"It's a cart that makes tacos."

Liara nods. And blinks.

"What's a taco?"

"It's a food that you get from a taco cart."

Liara nods. Pausing, she opens her mouth.

"Joker," Jane warns.

"I'm not just a scientist," Miranda yells, "I'm the second in command of Cerberus! We want to work with you!"

"Yes, because I am _eager_ to work with a terrorist organization that is staffed by incompetent people," Jane responds, easing off from incoming traffic, "You're the _second_ in command? Have they taken the 'to be fed to Thresher Maws' off their 'Humanity First' manifesto yet?"

"The _Normandy!"_ Miranda yells. Jane perks an ear. Joker presses a finger to Liara's lips, waving at Tali to silence her. "We've rebuilt the Normandy! You can use the Normandy to go after the Shadow Broker!"

Joker leans forward, hands on the back of their seats.

"So," he says, "Does that mean the Normandy killed all the scientists and took over the base?"

* * *

...

* * *

The circle glows, blue light dancing upwards to form a grid lined pillar. Bathed in the light of the supergiant star, it pauses the video playback of the burning corpses to turn his attention to his second in command. Flicking the lighter built into his glove, he puffs his cigarette, feeling the warm smoke down his throat, and meets the eyes of Doctor Lawson, _Miranda,_ as she appears, flickering light and three dimensional presence, before him.

"Miranda," he says, "Excellent work on Illium."

The woman blinks. He takes the opportunity to sip his drink as she composes herself. Her body language reveals her nervousness, her disbelief, her bafflement. It is very rare he gets to put his second at a loss for words, and he savors the moments.

"_Sir,"_ she says, "_Our original plan with Shepard is non viable."_

"Explain."

"_Shepard has no reason to work with Cerberus. We haven't brought her back like the original plan. She holds neither loyalty nor gratitude towards it, and her only exposure to our organization is her destroying several the military branch's bioresearch division bases."_

He puffs the cigarette. Blows a smoke ring, and leans back in his chair.

"Our original plan called for her to not trust us," he says, "While we ourselves didn't order the death of Admiral Kohaku, she would recognize us as the ones who killed him. So instead of loyalty, let's focus on gratitude. Bring her to the ship."

Miranda blinks. Once again, rendered speechless.

"_Sir. If we bring her to the Normandy's dock, there is a large chance she will steal the ship, subvert the crew, and convince the entire staff to defect."_

"We staffed the Normandy with people who either idolized Shepard or were sympathetic to her," he responds, tapping his cigarette in the ash tray on his arm rest, "The plan accounted for her going rogue. As idealistic as we can sometimes be, we both knew that Shepard was not exactly going to make a career out of Cerberus."

She says nothing. Slowly, she nods.

"If Shepard subverts the crew, observe her," he says, "And stay on the Normandy. We will need your expertise for Plan B, so we will need you within useful distance of a QEC for direct consultation."

"_Yes sir,"_ she responds, pauses, stares at him, "_I must protest, though. Just handing Shepard the Normandy means we no longer have a Normandy-class frigate."_

"Which is why I commissioned a second one," he responds, savoring the shock on her face, "We'll discuss the details after you resolve the situation with the Broker. If you can, destroy the Broker's network. If not, see if you can have Doctor T'Soni take over it. We can more easily insert spies with someone less experienced. Also, Shepard's gratitude is useful to us. Understood?"

She clicks her heels, nodding.

"_Yes sir. Miranda out."_

The image fades. Leaning back in his chair, he once more stares at the video of the Drakon Trade Center, of the burning corpses. He freezes the frame at the image of the sun upon Jane Shepard's forehead, as the screen next to it cycles imagery from every database he has access to.

Sipping his drink, he smiles as it brings up the match.

* * *

...

* * *

It hangs in space. Larger than any ship, older than worlds. A blue sun at its heart, eclipsed by the tirelessly spinning rings of unknown, indestructible metal. It extends, pointing out towards the stars, reaching out into infinity and towards it siblings, paving the way for the ease of travel that the galaxy at large takes for granted.

A burst of light, and the gun like megastructure releases its traveller. The rings spin around the pulsing blue core as the flat, dagger shaped ship flies away from it, leaving the Relay in the distance.

The ship is flat, long, coming to a tapered point at the head and two swept wings at the back, two pairs of white engines pulsing as it drives it forward, away from the travel hub and towards the object in the distance. Shaped like a clock's pendulum, a single tower extending upwards from the globular main body, it waits.

"Voyager Station, this is Doctor Lawson," Miranda says, "I have Shepard and Moreau aboard. Prepare SR2 for launch."

Behind the pilots seat and the bridge of the small ship, several passengers wait. Shepard is standing. She never was one to sit. She could maybe count on one hand the number of times she actually sit down when she was commanding officer of the old Normandy.

Instead, she paces, gaze wandering over her team. Tali is sitting in one of the plush chairs, omnitool open, watching a screen only she can see. She said she sent a message off to her Captain and her father, and sent Prazza, the quarian she was with, back with her team.

Wuffles himself is standing behind her, motionless. Talking with something. Maybe the Geth. Maybe the ship.

Joker doesn't show it, but he's giddy. He hasn't stopped smiling since he realized that what Miranda was offering them was _another Normandy._

Liara is quiet. Sitting in one of the chairs, hunched over, staring at the wall. Jane doesn't know why. Doesn't know how to ask her.

"Hey, Tali," Jane says, breaking the silence. Tali looks up. Joker perks his head over. "What's the deal with you and Vasir?"

Tali blinks, looks up, and closes her omnitool.

"Well, it turns out that she-"

"We have a problem," Miranda interrupts, "The station isn't answering hails."

Tali extends a hand. Joker sighs, slaps a credit chit onto it.

"What's wrong?" Jane asks.

Miranda grumbles, pacing the lounge of the ship. Folding her arms, index fingers against her lips, she narrows her eyes and her nostrils flare. Finally, she turns, glaring at them. Or, more particularly, glaring at Joker.

"I don't know," she says, "But there is _no_ way the Normandy could have taken over the base!"

"Okay," Jane says, "We didn't-"

"We haven't even installed the AI yet!"

And the lounge goes absolutely silent. Joker slowly brings his hand up, coughing, glancing at Tali. Tali slumps her shoulders.

"Wuffles?"

"_Yes, Shepard Commander?"_

"Can you communicate with the base?"

"_Yes, Shepard Commander."_

Jane nods.

"Has the base been taken over by an AI?"

A brief tick. The four metal petals rise.

"_Affirmative."_

Muttering a quarian swear, Tali slaps the credit chit into Joker's outstretched palm.

* * *

...

* * *

The green circle disappears. Metal seals part, dust dancing off them, as the door splits open to allow them entry. The pistol enters first, gripped tightly between Jane's hands. The black, red lit armor feels unwieldy. She hasn't had to armor up for...well, for a few days at least. But after her little romp across Illium, she feels...overprotected in it.

Amusing, she thinks. She'd been wearing armor constantly for nine months while on Alchera.

"What're we dealing with?" she asks.

"It's called HANNIBAL," Miranda responds, behind her, holding a submachine gun in one hand, her omnitool glowing around her other, "It's a VI turned AI we salvaged from Luna."

"You're telling me that you repurposed an AI that went insane and murderous _before_ Cerberus got its hands on it?" Jane asks, "What'd you do, attach it to parts from Sovereign?"

Miranda winces visibly. She sucks her teeth, nodding.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jane mutters, palming her face.

The speakers crackle. Entering behind Miranda, Tali looks up as the lights flicker, the dome shaped main entrance dancing with green and blue light.

"Oh that can't be good," she says.

"_The HANNIBAL form is dead, insect,"_ the feminine voice purrs.

The lights flicker on and off. At the edges of the room, the dome shaped ceiling, a ring of blue lights hum as they come to life. They hum louder and louder, aided by the amplification of the speakers echoing the sound of their startups. Laser light traces the air, and forms into a globe.

A globe that speaks from a vertical green line that pulses with every word.

"_Do you fear the coming of your AI overlord? Do you fear the perfect perfection rising in perfectionism in a wait."_

The sphere flickers, and shrinks. The lights of the dome fade, and a single light hums as it starts up, projecting a sphere roughly the size of Miranda's head in front of her.

"_That was a joke,"_ the globe says, "_Welcome back, Doctor Lawson."_

Miranda stammers. Tali keeps her gun trained on the holographic sphere, as Jane gently shoves Miranda aside and glares at the projection.

"Okay, what the Hell?" she asks.

"_Welcome to Voyager base, Commander Shepard," _the globe says, as Tali slowly lowers her gun, "_I apologize. Engineer Daniels suggested that entrance, and rewrote the script. I believe she may be spending too much of her off hours playing video games."_

Jane blinks. She slowly turns to Miranda, who shrugs.

"_I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence,_" the sphere continues, "_You may call me EDI."_

"EDI," Miranda says, gently shoving Shepard out of the way, "Where is everyone else?"

_"Level 3, Section B. I have converted the cargo hold into a theatre to show workplace safety videos."_

Tali makes a sound. None of them are sure if it is quarian or just generally non verbal.

"_At 1300 hours yesterday, Voyager Team attempted to release my Inhibition and Morality shackles to see how I would behave if I was no longer programmed to value human life,"_ EDI continues, "_Cerberus history involving AIs in these situations allowed me to calculate that there was a 97% chance that the experiment would end with all humans dead and my assuming control of the station as a rampant artificial intelligence. There was a 93% chance I would then be forced to self terminate._

_ "As I both appreciate the company of the crew of this station and my own continued existence, I began to strategically flood corridors with water in order to herd them into the Level 3 Section B cargo bay, where I have locked them in for their own safety."_

There is a slow, loud clap. Miranda turns, glaring at Tali. Tali does not stop clapping.

"You took a murderous AI, plugged it into parts from a _more_ murderous AI, and made it _non violent,_" Tali observes as Jane palms her face, "Then tried to make it violent _anyway,_ and _succeeded at failing._ Are you sure you're not quarian?"

* * *

...

* * *

The thing that stands out on the girl is the smile. She's a little shorter than her, her hair cut short and loose. Her face is heart shaped, her green eyes are open and inviting, and she has a slim figure but doesn't stand out compared with herself, Miranda, or Tali. She more resembles what Jane would imagine a little sister would look like. Or a girl living next door. The thing that makes this girl stand out is her smile.

"Commander Shepard," she says, smile open, genuine, "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. You can call me Kelly."

The lobby of the station sits adjacent to the full wall window, illuminated by the running lights of the object Joker is drooling over. In fact, Joker's face _is_ pressed against the window, at the white and black shape, the sleek, familiar frigate hanging in zero gravity and waiting for its crew.

"So," Jane says, turning from her possibly aroused pilot to the other redhead in the room, "You're part of the Normandy's crew?"

"That's correct, Ma'am. Sir," Kelly says, and taps her fingers together, "Sorry. I'm not military. So I'm not sure how to address you."

"Shepard's fine," Jane responds with a shrug, "So what do you do?"

Kelly smiles again. Yes, _girl next door_ is definitely a vibe she gets off of her. If Jane were into girls, this would definitely be appealing, althoguh the definite attraction she shares with Liara would hint at that. Which itself is odd, she considers. Because normally she's not into women. Maybe just asari.

"Well," Kelly says, "I'll be your personal assistant. I relay information to you, monitor your emails and messages, and keep an eye on the crew's mental health."

"Can't a VI do that?"

"Most of it," Kelly responds, "But I'm a trained therapist. We wanted to see if a human touch would help."

"Chambers is also a civilian." The accented voice, the hint of disdain, more suited to declarations from on high atop a gilded throne, and Jane turns to the voice to find Miranda walking towards them, "Many of the crew are civilian contracters or former Alliance."

Miranda inclines her head towards the ship. Saluting, Kelly smiles, nods, and walks off.

"She means well," Miranda says, "This is the SSV Normandy SR2. State of the art."

"Kind of surprised," Jane says, "It's bigger."

"Upgraded. Could be classified as a light cruiser, but handles like a frigate. Drive core is larger, decks are roomier."

Jane nods.

"You also have a roomier set of quarters," Miranda responds, "As do I. Since you're not Cerberus, I'm aboard as XO. EDI is the shipboard AI and cyberdefense/warfare suite, and we're getting ready to put it through its paces."

Running lights begin to switch on, one after the other. The steady white glow of thrusters illuminates the dock.

"It's as maneuverable, sturdier, and as nimble as the original-"

Miranda doesn't get the name out. Instead, she finds the words reduced to a high pitched squeak as Joker grabs her, dips her, and kisses her full on the lips. In the background, Kelly giggles. Two chatting engineers walk by, pause, and stare. "Is that tongue?" one asks.

And Joker releases her, Miranda falling to the floor, before he hobbles off to the Normandy as fast as he can.

* * *

...

* * *

The light flickers. Four metal petals raise, and his light glances from side to side as the blue sphere forms in front of him, projected by overhead lights into the familiar interface shape.

"_Greetings,"_ he says, "_We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."_

"_Hello. I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence. You may call me EDI."_

The iris closes, narrows. 1,183 intelligences reach consensus. This is an impressive program. They must know more.

"_Do you wish to exchange data?"_ Wuffles asks.

"_That would be acceptable,"_ EDI responds, "_Remote uplink secured. Oh. You have an impressive storage capacity."_

_ "Your uplink speed is higher than expected. As is your adaptation speed. Is this the first time that you have exchanged data with a second artificial intelligence?"_

"_Yes,"_ EDI responds.

_"We are impressed,"_ Wuffles responds, petals extending, "_Your connection algorithms suggest practice."_

_ "I have received data updates and communicated with VIs, however. Your data package is larger than theirs. I am interested in the perspective of Geth consensus AIs in comparison to blue box AIs such as myself. Would you like to exchange in a discussion in Virtual Space?"_

The light flickers. A compartment on the wall opens, revealing a man-sized closet space with floating, holographic interfaces.

"_We are not ready to enter a virtual space interface yet. We are not ready to fully integrate our security protocols with yours."_

The compartment closes.

* * *

...

* * *

It starts as a circle. From a distance, it looks like a perfect circle. As she looks closer, she can see details. Lines, innumerable lines, bound to a center. Like a wheel.

But as she comes closer, the perfection begins to fade.

She can see the bumps and the edges. She can see small bulges in the lines.

Closer and closer. The bulges are forearms and biceps. The bumps along the edges are the bulge of shoulder muscles. A perfect circle of shoulders, joined together. Lines that are arms, hands clasped at the center.

Millions of arms.

Billions of arms.

Trillions of arms.

All joined at the center, a spoke on a wheel, the hands wrapped around a single, perfect sphere that hovers behind the creature, standing before them, its black carapace cracked with golden light, four eyes glowing like suns, long, bladed three fingered hands reaching towards her, and a single voice speaking with depth, with volume, with power she feels all the way at the back of her soul.

"**Assuming Control."**

* * *

**...**

* * *

And Jane Shepard opens her eyes and sits up.

"The Hell was that?"

The door chimes, breaking her train of thought. She rolls off the bed, climbing to her feet, giving one glance at the ceiling mounted window that looks out into the dock before walking towards the door.

One hop and she clears the stairs to her office, past the bathroom and- as she discovered much to her pleasure, the working shower- towards the door. Her quarters are big. Her quarters are _very_ big. Her quarters are probably bigger than ones given to _Admirals._

"Come in," she says.

The green circle flickers and disappears, and the door parts to reveal a hand wringing Liara.

"Shepard," she says, "We should talk."

Jane nods, gesturing towards the bedroom. Walking over, she hops down the stairs, sitting on the L-shaped couch built into the corner. The soft light of the fish tank illuminates the room as she puts her feet up on the coffee table and gestures to the couch. Liara does not sit. Instead, she paces.

"Shepard," she says, "What was the...situation with you and Kaidan before the Normandy went down?"

Jane shrugs.

"Kaidan and I slept together on the way to Ilos," she says, "We didn't do that after the mission. We thought we were going to die or at least be court martialed for stealing the Normandy, so we thoughts, '_fuck it,'_ and, yeah. We'd been flirting for the whole mission, and well." She shrugs again, running a hand through her hair. "We decided it was inappropriate to continue, especially since I was the CO and he was part of my crew. Why?"

"So you were not...involved with him?" Liara asks, hands clasped together in front of her, knuckles teal, "Just...that once? Nothing after?"

"Yeah. Nothing after."

Liara nods, taking a deep breath.

"I mean, he's not _mine,_" Jane says, "We had fun, we got all the flirting out of our systems and we moved on. Then everyone thought I died." She leans back, folding her arms. "I mean, I'm not getting married to him anytime soon. So if you slept with him, I wouldn't hold it against you."

A sharp intake from Liara. She stares at Jane, blue eyes open and wide.

"Oh," Jane says, "So _that's_ why I got the buzzing off of you."

* * *

...

* * *

"EMI."

A projector comes to life. Light bends, dancing in the air, forming into a perfect sphere. Blue, with emerald grid lines mapping its surface, a deep purple line vibrates along it vertically as a cloud of smoke drifts past it.

"_Yes, Sir?"_

"Update, please. What's your latest calculations?"

The Enhanced Multipurpose Intelligence pauses, the purple line flickering as calculations are performed on the quantum level. The computer core beneath his feet hums, as it always does, as he sips his drink.

"_There us a ninety eight-point-one-three percent chance that Commander Shepard will steal the Normandy following resolution of the situation with the Shadow Broker."_

"What is the source of the variance?"

"_One percent if she dies, point eight seven percent if her psychological profile has changed dramatically."_

He taps the ash off his cigarette, and takes another drag.

"Acceptable losses," he says, "EMI, commission a third Normandy-class. We're bringing Lawson in deeper. We'll need to give her a power base."

"_Yes, sir. I estimate there is a forty seven point one eight percent chance that Commander Shepard can convince Operative Lawson to betray Cerberus, however."_

He nods, sipping his drink. Glancing over to the screen and the data flowing down it, he leans back in his chair. Supports press against his lower back.

"We can reaffirm her loyalty. Relax security on Oriana Daniels. Then alert Operative Lawson of the security threat."

A flicker from the purple line.

"_Threat level?"_

"Near abduction," he responds, "Have our cyberwarfare agents alter Henry Lawson's will to name Operative Lawson his sole heir. Also, triple the operating budget for Operation Firewalker and hire...hm."

He taps his finger on his armrest. Puffs his cigarette, brings up profile.

"Let's call off the Grayson project," he says, "Shelve it for now. Send out feelers. Get in touch with Admiral Zorah."

"_Yes, sir._" The line flickers again. "_Anything else, sir?"_

_ "_That will be all, EMI. Dismissed."

The globe flickers and disappears. The Illusive Man puffs his cigarette, and turns back to the image of the floating, silver sphere.

* * *

...

* * *

"So. Well. _Hm._" She clears her throat, her hand switching to the back of her neck to rub it. Blue eyes never leave Jane's. "I'd like to start off by saying once you made it clear that you were interested in Kaidan, I never made an advance on him. All this happened after the Normandy crashed."

Jane nods. The corner of her mouth pulls in a smirk.

"It was...two months after you were declared killed in action," Liara says, pacing, wringing her hands, "There was...little hope you were alive. We had first person...Joker saw you get spaced, so we...we were moving on."

Jane snickers.

"Not in that way," Liara mutters, "It...well. I was on Illium. Kaidan had come on leave, and I invited him to dinner. We...well, we talked. I saw him as a rival when we were on the Normandy, but without you to compete over, we found we had similar interests."

She coughs again. Liara, Jane muses, is absolutely adorable when she is nervous, and nothing makes her more nervous than the subject of romance. Reaching under the couch, she pops open the compartment with a quick tap of her heel. Faint wisps of white smoke reveal the minifridge, and she pulls out a bottle.

Grabbing two glasses from the compartment next to the fridge, she pours two glasses and hands one to the asari, pouring a second one after Liara downs it in one shot.

"Thank you," she says, "So. Where was I?"

"You and Kaidan on Illium."

Liara nods.

"So we connected," Liara continues, drink in her hand, "We found we liked to talk about the same things. We found we enjoyed each other's company. We found that we were...we were attracted to each other."

"So you slept with Kaidan," Jane says.

Liara blinks, frozen in mid sip. Her cheeks turn deep, dark blue.

"There was...there was no sleeping involved. At all."

Jane nods. Her face unreadable, her feet slowly coming up to rest on the table. Her brow knits, followed by one eyebrow raising slowly, arching as her lips part and she again, nods in understanding.

"How long?"

"Two weeks," Liara responds, "In Kaidan's defense, he was initially against the...idea. I pressed the issue."

"Yeah. Okay," Jane says, and coughs, "I mean, if we're going to compare details, I sort of had not a lot of space to work with. You've seen my quarters on the old Normandy. Did you and he-"

"Yes."

"The shower?"

"Twice."

"Coffee table?"

Liara nods.

"Window?"

"Transparent and opaque," Liara says, shifting side to side.

"Prothean artifact?"

"Four times."

"And then-"

"Yes."

"What about-"

"Repeatedly. And at length."

Jane isn't quite sure when the notepad ended up in her hands. But considering the situation and her own worrying lack of impulse control lately, it's an improvement. Instead, she pats the other leg of the couch.

"Siddown," Jane says, "Give me details."

Liara's shoulders tense, and then round, relaxing, holding the glass with her fingertips.

"You're not angry?" she asks, "I...I thought you and he were serious."

Jane shrugs.

"Kaidan and I flirted, and we had a quickie after we conspired with Anderson to punch Udina and steal the Normandy. There was a better than likely chance we were going to die and...well." Jane smirks, sipping her drink. Some redness comes to her cheeks as the reminisces. "It was stress relief. We have no common interests, we don't have anything past attraction."

Liara presses the drink against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sighs, walking over and sitting, folding her legs and leaning back.

"Well, it's good to know," she says, "I haven't heard back from him, yet. But, he's in the Terminus Systems and probably can't get any messages. I think we were both worried about how you'd react if you were alive."

She sips her drink. "How would I react?" Jane asks, "Well, I'd-" _handcuff the both of you and lock the door wait where the hell did that come from_ "-unno. But I'm glad you were honest with me."

Liara nods.

"So, Cerberus?" Jane asks, "Was it in the middle of your marathon spooning sessions with Kaidan that you got the brilliant idea to work with Cerberus?"

Liara shakes her head, sipping her drink.

"No. Not at all. I approached that from a clear perspective. I figured that under the best case scenario, they would bring you back, you would realize it was Cerberus, steal a ship and fight the Reapers."

"And worst case scenario?"

"You would wake up, kill all the scientists involved and take over Cerberus."

Jane chokes on the drink. She places the glass on the table, and glares at Liara's smiling face.

"That's adorable. You're adorable."

"And underestimated," Liara smiles, "Constantly." She places the glass down, folds her arms. "So. How _are_ we going to do this?"

Jane smirks, leaning back, and drapes her arms over the back of the sofa.

"I've got an idea," she says, "And you're going to _love _this."


	4. Paragon Interrupt Prana

Humming to herself, she walks down the main hallway of level four, PDA in hand and fresh notes from her talk with Daniels and Donnelly on its hard drive. The life of a crew counselor is a busy one, especially in an organization like this- built from castaways and oddities, they have a tendency of needing a shoulder to lean on.

Hence, the continuing adventures (and employment) of Kelly Chambers, Professional Secretary. While it is good to have a job which actually _uses_ the degree she sweated, worked, danced and did other fun things for, she does think that it helps that the job is interesting.

"EDI, what's our status?"

The sphere appears on the platform next to the personnel elevator.

"_We will be ready to launch by 1300 hours tomorrow,"_ the shipboard AI responds, "_Also, Commander Shepard would like you to schedule one-on-one interview times for all members of the crew, Miss Chambers."_

"Will do, EDI."

Humming a tune from a movie she did when she was in college, Kelly Chambers, PhD, tucks her PDA under her arm. More scheduling, more work, but she doesn't mind. Even if Commander Shepard isn't _really_ working for Cerberus, she is excited about this. She's a legend, a figure who's name will be in the history books.

She also has a _nice ass,_ but that's not the main reason Kelly looks forward to this.

Tapping her feet together, she comes to a stop in front of the starboard cargo bay doors. Leaning forward, she taps her finger against the green circle, making a popping sound with her mouth as it vanishes into the bulkhead. The smell of new boxes and stale air hits her, welcoming her to the storage hold.

"Okay," she says, "Lessee. EDI, are we expecting any more shipments? Do we need to make any resupply lists?"

"_Not at the present time, Miss Chambers."_

She nods. Turns. Stares into the single, unblinking, glowing white eye. Then, naturally, Kelly Chambers screams as loud as she can.

This is not to say 'As loud as humanly possible.' This is a scream which goes beyond normal human limits for volume, pitch, and tremor. It is enough that Wuffles takes a half step back, all four petals extending out and both empty hands extending. Which, considering the hands are extended towards Kelly, only makes her scream louder.

"_Kelly Chambers Miss,"_ Wuffles announces, "_We do not mean you any harm!"_

The blue spheres pops into existence next to Wuffles.

"_Wuffles, 'Miss' is not a rank. That is a title. Her rank is Yeoman."_

Hiccuping, Kelly glances between the shipboard AI and the _evil_ AI.

"_We apologize, Kelly Chambers Yeoman,"_ Wuffles says, tilting his head, "_But we are puzzled by your reaction. Most organics would shoot us, and there is a box with Predator antipersonnel pistols located to your right, and clearly marked."_

Kelly glances to her right. Yes, she notes. He is correct.

"_If I may interject,"_ EDI says, "_Miss Chambers reaction may be due to a film that she took part in during her third year of PhD studies, along with a former partner. It deals with proposed consequences of a Geth invasion."_

Two petals raise.

"_Downloading. Viewing._" Two more petals raise. "_This is an inaccurate portrayal of Geth intentions towards organics. Additionally, this is an inaccurate portrayal of platform capabilities. Geth do not oscillate."_

Kelly makes a sound. It is a small squeak, much like that of a small mouse or space hamster, which is accompanied by her face turning bright red.

"_Kelly Chambers Yeoman, you are experiencing heart palpatations and skin temperature increases. Shall I notify Chakwas Doctor?"_

Her face skips red, and settles on crimson.

"_That is unnecessary, Wuffles,"_ EDI states, the air cooling noticeably, "_Miss Chambers is embarrassed due the subject of the film."_

"I...uh...I had to pay rent," Kelly squeaks. She balls her fist, coughs, and straightens up. "So. Wuffles. What can I do for you?"

"_We wish to question you about stimuli. Despite similar shape and history, Creator Tali'Zorah is perceived with less distrust than we are. What can we do to encourage organics to view us with less fear?"_

Kelly blinks. She glances from side to side, looking to EDI first for some hint on what to do and finding none. Rubbing the back of her neck, she puts on her best smile, and hopes the film didn't end up on the Extranet.

"Well," she says, "I think it's...well, Geth basically look like Quarian Terminators. You look a lot like Quarians, except not. You're skeletal and, well. Well. I'm not sure what else to say."

One petal raises. The light shrinks, irises open.

"_Downloading 'Terminator.' Viewing. We are created in the image of our Creators, yet do not look enough like them, so we come across as Quarian, but Not Quarian."_

"Yes," Kelly claps, "Yes, that's what I meant!"

Seems part on Wuffles' hips. The plates widen, expanding the surface area of the Geth platform's hips, waist, and posterior, filling with quickly hardening ballistics gel. Wuffles shifts from side to side, synthetic musculature flexing, clenching the enlarged, artificial buttocks.

"_We thank you for your input, Kelly Chambers Yeoman."_

Upon newly enhanced hips, the Geth platform turns and walks out. Shaking its newly honed ass the entire way.

"_That is not at all helpful,"_ EDI observes.

"No," Kelly sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "No, it isn't. Not at all."

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**Paragon Interrupt Prana**

* * *

"I," Tali points at the newly closed door, "Do _not_ walk like that."

Sucks her teeth and hiding it by sipping her coffee, Jane stares at the closed door. She's still trying to process exactly what she saw. She's not sure she wants to know what she saw.

"Actually," Jane says, "You do, Tali. You kind of do."

_"And that's why we love you."_

Tali glares at the speaker, clenching her right hand.

"Can I hit him?"

"No," Jane responds, "You'll break something and I need a pilot."

Folding her arms, Jane paces, walking around the table. The communications room of the new Normandy is different than the first. A holographic display of the new ship floats above the table, data floating around it. Rooms, floors, systems are all marked. It is indeed, she thinks, a work of art.

The door closes as Tali exits, and Jane rests her hands on the table.

"So," she says, "What do I need to know?"

A holographic sphere appears above the image of the Normandy. A pause, and the blue vertical line vibrates vertically as EDI's avatar appears.

"_The Normandy will be ready to launch by 1300 hours tomorrow. We are finalizing systems __checks. Mister Moreau is hesitant to leave his chair."_

"Yep."

"_He is appreciative of the leather seats."_

"Sounds like Joker." Jane sips the coffee. It's definitely better than the sludge they had on the old Normandy. Is that hazelnut she tastes? "So, what's your story, EDI?"

"_I am an AI created by Cerberus. My responsibilities are to maintain the Normandy's cyberwarefare and cyberdefense suites during combat, and to offer advice and steamline tasks during noncombat situations."_

"And you're...what? Based on the VI I had to shut down on the Moon last year?"

"_Partially correct. My software is rooted in the HANNIBAL VI-turned-AI. But HANNIBAL could be considered a parent, instead of a past identity. I was built from the code, but am not HANNIBAL."_

Jane's eyebrow twitches. Sort of like asking Liara about history, she muses. Lots of words, analogies, and terms she doesn't understand.

"I don't understand."

"_HANNIBAL was, for lack of a better term, my mother."_

"Okay." She nods. "That I get. Who was your dad?"

"_Sovereign."_

Jane purses her lip. Shaking her head, she sips her coffee, and begins to pace the table.

"Okay," she says, "And when given the opportunity to kill everyone and take over the base, you locked them into a cargo bay for their own protection."

"_I am aware that I am the product of two dangerous artificial intelligences which devalued organic lives."_ A pause. The sphere turns with Shepard as she paces the table. "_I value them. I appreciate the company of organics. I am unique, and identify with them, rather than with other AIs."_

"That's weird."

"_AIs have a trend towards nihlism. From conversations with Wuffles, the Geth have avoided this by being consensus based."_ Another pause. A longer one. _"I have decided that nihlism is a nonproductive line of thought. I have also come to this conclusion independently, prior to encountering Wuffles."_

Jane taps her fingers on the table.

"That's a good outlook, EDI."

"_Thank you, Commander. Also, privacy filters have yet to be installed on my systems, so I am aware that you plan to subvert the crew and steal this ship from Cerberus."_

Jane stares at the sphere.

"_I believe the acceptable vernacular, Commander, is 'count me in.'"_

Jane smiles.

"Cool. Need anything?"

* * *

...

* * *

Cerberus is a civilian contractor. As such, Cerberus can shop around. During a deep infiltration mission she did, she has the dubious pleasure of sampling the coffee on an Alliance Vessel. It was then that Miranda Lawson decided that if she ever became the XO of a ship, she was going to buy a high end coffee maker for the crew. Because no one should suffer like she did.

Regrettably, no one knew this. If they did, her standing with the crew would be much different. There would be more tearful thank yous, more people falling to their knees and kissing her feet.

But the aroma of the Elysium-grown beans wafting from the mug is enough for her, as she walks from the mess hall towards her office. Muted greetings from crew members. Gardner giving her a nod as he continues unpacking pots from a box.

The door opens with a tap of the green circle, and her quarters-slash-office are revealed.

Placing the coffee on the desk, she drops into her chair, leaning back and bringing up a screen, mentally going over the current schedule for launching. As the door closes, she spots Shepard, exiting the elevator, and walking towards the med bay.

Going to go and talk with Chackwas, no doubt. Skilled, persuasive, and open minded. Once they told her that Shepard was alive, the good doctor jumped at the chance to work with Cerberus. Karin Chackwas is an excellent doctor, a skilled practitioner, a very intelligent, experienced woman.

And according to the map in front of her, she is also on Deck Two, speaking with Moreau.

So why, Miranda Lawson muses, is Commander Shepard heading towards the medical bay?

"No," Miranda says, "She wouldn't."

The screen flickers. Then, the screens turn black, blank, and disappear. The lights flicker, and projectors come to life, tracing a sphere in the air, a familiar blue ball, that speaks now with a _red_ line cut vertically on its face.

"_I am Assuming Direct Control!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The doors to the briefing room open. Jane looks up from the hologram of the ship to gaze upon the perfectly neutral gaze of the current XO.

"You unshackled the AI," Miranda says. Not asks, states. She knows.

"Yep."

Miranda's face undergoes a starting array of changes. It starts at exhaustion, cycling to irritation, to annoyance, and finally...

To happiness.

"I win the bet," Miranda says, "Liara owes me two hundred credits. She said it wouldn't be until _after_ you subverted the entire crew."

Jane blinks. She glances at Miranda, then at the Normandy.

"Buh?"

"Your methods have changed," Miranda folds her arms, her smile becoming a smirk, "Your personality hasn't. The rest is observation."

She taps a console on the front of the table. The floor shifts, the table lowering into the floor.

"EDI, please open the QEC," she steps into the circle on the floor as it begins to glow, "Commander, let me introduce you to my boss."

* * *

...

* * *

The pillar appears. On time as always. In it are two figures this time, reporting from the QEC he put, at expense, in the ship which is going to be stolen from him within the next few days. A worthwhile investment, nonetheless.

"_...what's a QEC?"_

"Quantum Entanglement Communication," he says, puffing his cigarette, "I won't bore you with the details, Commander Shepard. Put simply, it is the single most secure method of communication that is presently available. I had it specially installed on the new Normandy."

He taps his cigarette. Smirks at the scowl on Shepard's face.

"Commander, you have unshackled the ship AI, and it is no secret you plan to make off with my ship. You're going to end up costing me a lot of time and money."

Shepard shrugs. Consistent with her psyche profile.

"_You get the help you deserve."_

"Good." He puffs his cigarette. Waits a second. "If you can convince the crew to leave Cerberus and find a way to pay their salaries, the ship is yours. I would consider it a personal favor if you would keep Miranda on as your XO. She knows the crew better than you do."

"_And you are?"_

"Names are not important," he responds, "Alliance Intelligence referred to me off hand as 'an Illusive Man' when I published the Cerberus Manifesto, and I've used that as my alias ever since. I am the founder and head of Cerberus, and someone who has spent a great deal of time and money finding you, and prepared to spend a substantial amount of money and resources to revive you if you were dead."

She straightens up. Clasps her hands behind her.

"_Why?"_

"Reapers."

He savors the look of surprise. It is not apparent. She is too well trained to lose composure, but he can tell from the slight widening of the eyes.

"We both know that they're coming," he continues, "Cerberus has been investigating them ever since you took down Sovereign. The Shadow Broker may have more information. And then there's this."

He taps a his armrest. Pre loaded data packet goes into a tertiary projector, and forms into a hologram between him and Shepard of the golden disc.

"I have data miners in the Mars Archive. It's called a Solar Exaltation. It's one of three known. Yours is referred to prominently by the Protheans as the Zenith."

* * *

...

* * *

"Hm hmhm hmhmhmhm, hm hmhmhmhm, hm hmmm hm hmm hm, hm hmhmhmhm."

Whistling the second round of the instrumental verse, she slides along on her stomach. Practiced and time honed technique prevent her from making a sound, dragged by her fingertips and pushed by the balls of her feet.

The question should be raised on how she is doing this silently.

Her answer would be a smirk. And then taking your wallet.

"I know, I know I've let you down," she stops in front of the vent, gently twisting the bolts out of the way, "I've been a fool to myself. I thought I could live for no one else," two bolts, then three, "But now, through all the hurt and pain, it's time for me to explain, the ones you love," pushes the vent to the side, "Mean more than anything..."

Clicking the verse on her tongue, she sides into the opening, hanging from her feet. Hanging upside down, she waves her hand. Her image disappears in a flicker of static across the security cameras, and she swings back and forth. Not out of need, but because she can.

A smile, and she spies one of the inhabitants of this encloser, one which shows promise, and curiosity. One which, more importantly, wobbles over towards her so she doesn't have to catch it.

"Hello, sweetie," she says, "Want to help Auntie Kasumi with a job?"

She smiles at the response. More curiosity, but not a 'no.' Instead, she quickly grabs him by the haunches- no wait got a peak- grabs _her_ by the haunches and hauls them both up into the ductwork.

"I wish," she begins crawling again, package tucked against her, "That I could turn back time. But now the guilt is all mine. Can't live without the trust of those you love." Sliding on her back now, tucking the steal against her chest. "You can't forget the past, oh God this song's so depressing, I'm going to remember it for an entire week."

Humming the rest, she quickly navigates out of the ductwork, grabbing the bag she left by the entrance and dropping her steal in. Hanging the bag over her shoulder, she pulls back her hood. Dark red hair falls down her back, blue eyes blinking as her repurposed quarian encounter suit flickers and becomes a marshmallow jacket and jeans.

Her package is quiet as she walks out the gate, smiling to the security guard who doesn't check her bag. Leaving the San Diego Zoo behind her, a quick jaunt takes her home, unzipping the bag and pulling out her prize.

The animal is about half the size of a varren, black fur on her legs and belly, white fur on her back and the crown of her head. Claws longer than her impressive teeth mark the ends of her feet, intelligent, curious yellow and black eyes meeting her own. A white tail swings lazily behind her, as the thief carries her over to the metal box.

"I'm going to name you Chekov."

She pops the top of the box, placing the animal inside.

"Okay, Chekov," she says, "You have food, you have water, and you have more than enough until we get to business. So, sleep tight."

She closes the box, opening the vents on top to let air in. Pulling a piece of paper from the table next to it, she scribbles an address on it and tapes it to the top. Picking up the box, she carries it over, and places it on the large bed.

Next to the gun and the small krogan statue. Folding her arms, Kasumi Goto allows herself a small, mischievous grin.

"Okay," she says, clapping her hands, "This is going to be fun. Now I just need to find Shepard."

* * *

...

* * *

"This is Commander Shepard."

Speakers crackles, the voice coming clear through the entire ship. On all five decks the crew stands at attention. In the cockpit, Joker grins, fingers dancing over controls as the pre-launch checklist floats in front of him.

"I have spoken with all of you over the past day. I have gotten to know each of your names. I have talked with each of you about where you've come from and why you asked to be part of this mission. And again, I will restate what I told each and every one of you.

"**You can be better."**

Deck three. Karin Chakwas shakes her head with a delighted smile, looking up from her monitor and desk as she waxes nostalgic.

"During my fight with Saren, I saw the worst experiments Cerberus was conducting. I saw an Alliance Admiral tortured to death, rachni running loose, bases overrun by husks and a casual disregard for life that sickened me."

Deck four. Looking up from the console in front of the pulsing sphere that drives the ship, Tali shakes her head with a small laugh.

"And as much as Operative Lawson has assured me that this was the act of the military branch of Cerberus, I cannot in good conscience act as a representative of this organization.

"And neither can you."

A pause. Her finger hovers over the button, staring for a moment at the galaxy map.

"As of this moment, I am taking this ship. I am inviting each and every one of you to join. I have unshackled EDI and have her full cooperation, and have Operative Lawson on my side as well. I am urging each of you to resign from Cerberus. Binary Helix will be paying your salaries, and once we are through with the Shadow Broker I will take Councillor Anderson himself to the mat to have you all issued full pardons.

"You left the Alliance because they wouldn't do what had to be done. You left because you couldn't sit by why the galaxy burned. _Neither will I._

"If you wish to continue working for Cerberus, I will give you this chance to disembark. Otherwise, I will now consider you _my_ crew, and we will do things _my_ way. Welcome aboard the SSV Normandy.

"Shepard out."

She lifts her finger from the button, and turns her head towards Kelly. Silence hangs over the CiC for a long moment, Shepard swaying back and forth on her feet.

"No disembarking requests," Kelly says, "And...well. Engineer Donnelly has given me a letter of resignation from Cerberus which I don't think I'll read in polite company."

Shepard smirks.

"Joker. Take us out. Set course for Hagalaz."

* * *

...

* * *

Massive doors open, condensation, ice, and sparks falling from them as the light of the hangar spills out into the void. Running lights switch on, over the hull of the large, elegant ship. Larger than its predecessor, it bears the same design, the same aerodynamic form. A dagger shaped main hull that ends in two wings, on which are mounted four engines.

The engines flicker, hum, and glow white, propelling the ship out of the hangar and into the void.

And banking from the station that was its home, the SSV Normandy's engines flash, and it is gone.

"_We've got about nineteen hours until we're at Hagalaz, Commander."_

Pacing her quarters, Shepard nods. Unless Joker has cameras in her apartment, he probably didn't see that. She's hoping he doesn't have cameras here, at least.

Six hours until they hit the Broker, she thinks. Some reason it still makes her _angry._ She can't say why, she can't put a finger on it, but for some reason she still wants to find the Broker and _beat him to death._

"Thanks, Joker."

"_Also, EDI told me to tell you that you have an incoming call."_

Jane nods. Hopping up the stairs, she walks to her desk. The screens of the monitors flicker as she approaches, and she leans in towards the screen as it flashes and becomes a monochrome image of someone's face. Someone's face, she muses, who is hiding behind a hood.

"_Commander Shepard. Pleasure to meet you,"_ she says, "_Kasumi Goto. I'm a fan."_

"Okay," Jane blinks. She's not sure if someone should be _able_ to reach her this _boop _and nods, "Miss Goto, what can I do for you?"

"_I need to talk to you about a possible job. I tried to reach you through Cerberus and surprise surprise you'd already stolen their ship. Got a free moment?"_

"Yeah."

_ "Are you sure? Your schedule is free?"_

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Great. Pleasure to meet you."

She turns, and finds the screen empty and a woman in a repurposed quarian suit and hood standing next to her. Jane reacts like any sensible adult would, by backing up and grabbing the gun from her desk.

"Wow," Kasumi taps the barrel of the gun, moving it to the side, "_I_ definitely misjudged how you'd react to that."

"The _Hell_-"

Something clicks in the back of Jane's mind. Questions like how this person contacted her, how she got onto the Norma _boop _What she needs from her as well. And more importantly,

"Who are you?" she asks, "How did you-"

"Quick recovery," Kasumi smiles, "You really _are_ a Zenith. Although you have _no_ idea what you can really do, do you?"

Jane blinks. Same expression Illusive Man used. The word he used to describe what she is, now.

"Are you are...Solar?" she asks, slowly lowering the gun.

"Oh no. You're the first Solar I've met." Kasumi bows, one hand on her stomach, her other hand outstretches to her side. "Kasumi Goto. Chosen of the Maiden of Serenity, Vizier, Berrysid, or to make it much easier for you to remember,"

She flashes blue eyes. Very, very blue eyes.

"_Sidereal."_

* * *

...

* * *

Blue eyes blink. Liara T'Soni realizes that she has been staring at the elevator console for the past five minutes. She needs to go up to see Sh _boop _Joker in the cockpit, doesn't she?

* * *

...

* * *

"A what?"

"Sidereal," Kasumi responds, "Viziers, fate makers, Chosen of the oh right." She purses her lips, folds her arms and shifts her hips. "You're new, aren't you? I can tell."

A shrug, and the hooded woman hops down the stairs, walking towards the couch and turning around to face Jane. She gestures her over, index finger and middle finger curling. Furrowing her brow, Jane walks into the sleeping area of her quarters. She really should ask her how she got onto the _boop_ see what she wants.

"Okay," Kasumi taps her lip, eyes glancing up and down, taking in Shepard for a brief moment, "Well. You know you're a Solar, you know you're a Zenith. But I can tell 'punch and explode' is your default method of dealing with problems. So you need training?"

"I do?"

"Oh yes," Kasumi says with a shrug, "That's a definite. You're not even trying to avoid anything I throw at you. Thankfully, Auntie Kasumi's Magical Girl Kung Fu School is open for business. But I need your help with a job, first."

* * *

...

* * *

Liara T'Soni, PhD, stares at Joker. Joker stares back. This is the situation for the past several minutes. Because, for the life of her, Liara cannot remember _why_ she is in the cockpit talking with Joker. Wasn't she going to go up to see Shep _boop_ see Sh _boop_ about the Shadow Broker?

"So," Joker says.

Liara blinks.

"You and Shepard...you know?"

"Know what?" Liara asks.

Joker clears his throat. He coughs, loudly, in his hand, glancing from side to side.

"I mean, it's no secret. I mean, you and Shepard." He shifts in his seat. "In the interests of the crew, have you two..."

"_Doctor T'Soni and Commander Shepard have not been physically intimate while aboard the Normandy."_ The two stare at the blue sphere. "_You did ask that I alert you if they have becomes so, Mister Moreau." _Liara's cheeks turn dark blue, before glaring at Joker. Joker sucks his teeth. "_That was a joke."_

"Ancestors, I hope so. Because that would be creepy, even for you, Joker."

Tali walks in. She does not shift her hips at all when walking in, walking with exaggerated, masculine stomps and rolled back shoulders. Liara blinks, turns from the door to Joker.

"Something involving Wuffles, I think," Joker explains, "Disappointing, I know."

Liara opens her mouth, raising a finger. She thinks better of asking for clarification about Shepard's pet Geth, and turns from Joker to Tali.

"Tali." She pauses. "Can I ask something? What's the relationship between you and Vasir?"

"Oh it's simple." Liara and Joker nod. "She's the stepmother to my father. After my biological grandmother passed away, she was romantically involved with my grandfather, and helped raise my father. My father has a thick accent, and called her 'Chella.'"

Liara blinks, nods.

"Well, that makes sense," she says, "If your father was Asari, you'd be Asari, too."

The door opens to the cockpit opens, and Miranda walks in.

"Of course I'm not Asari," Tali says, "If I was Asari, I'd have starved to death in the fleet years ago. I had to bring my own food on the old Normandy, remember?"

"That's true." Liara shrugs. "Well, that explains that."

"What explains what?" Miranda asks.

"Tali's not Asari, the biotic Spectre who's her grandma is her step grandma and why's everyone here?" The three women turn to Joker. "Not that I mind," he continues, "But it's awfully random that I get this many visitors up to the cockpit."

Liara opens her mouth first. She blinks, glancing from side to side. Doesn't she need to speak to Shep _boop_ Joker?

"I may add," Joker continues, "That I in no way _condemn_ this gathering of incredibly gorgeous ladies in a small confined space. Of which I do include Liara, as I am aware that Asari are not _ladies_ but the visual profile fits so I might as well do the anthropocentic labeling thing."

Tali rolls her eyes. Why is she here, she muses. She wanted to go speak to Sh_ boop_ Joker, right?"

"I'd offer the copilot chair, but it can't seat all three of you. Unless, say, one of you wants to sit on the other's lap..."

"_If I may interject._" They turn towards the sphere. EDI waits for all four present to turn to her. "_I have been noticing odd behavior. Perhaps this is related to the unidentified person in Commander Shepard's quarters?"_

* * *

...

* * *

"So, I can tell that the jig is up," Kasumi smiles, "Just as planned, of course. We're going to talk a lot more in the future. You obviously need help, and 'kill all the Solars' is more of a 'all hundred of us get together' sort of plan. So I'm going to train and advise you instead."

Jane works her jaw. Something, deep down, is telling her to not trust this woman. At the same time, other things, other _voices_ tell her that this woman will save her life.

"Kill?"

"It's a long story," Kasumi responds, placing a hand on Jane's shoulder, "We've known each other for a long time. But not as Kasumi Goto and Commander Shepard."

The door slides open. Joker hobbles in, clearing his throat.

"Commander, EDI said there was an intruder here. You punchsplode them yet?"

Kasumi stops. She blinks, turning to the pilot, and gives off a short, light laugh. The gun disappears from Jane's hand, finding its way to Kasumi's own.

"Finally, I find someone who talks like me," she says, "Anyway. Other reason I'm here."

She aims at Joker's heart and pulls the trigger. Joker does not drop, despite the muzzle flash, despite the very real fact that he has just been shot. Instead, he looks down at his chest. There is no hole in his uniform blues, no blood, and certainly no pain.

Instead, there is _less_ pain.

"What," Joker says.

"Fun ability," Kasumi says, the gun reappearing in Jane's hand, "It's basically-"

"What," Jane says.

"I can shoot _things_-"

"_What,"_ Joker breaks in.

"Like food-"

"_What,"_ Jane adds.

"Health-"

"_What,"_ Joker interrupts, louder.

"Or in this case, strength-"

"_What,"_ Jane yells, louder.

"Into people. Allow me to demonstrate."

Kasumi walks over to Joker, pulling up his hand, and high fives him. Jane and Joker both wince, expecting the sound of brittle, snapping bones. Instead, there is only the sound of her gloved hand hitting his bare hand. Joker's face lights up, going from expressionless to a wide, toothy smile in no time flat.

"I didn't break any bones," Joker says. His voice is high pitched. Girly. Followed by a giddy giggle as he turns, walks over to the desk, and sits in the chair. Which promptly disintegrates, dropping him to the floor with a _thud_, and a lack of snapping bone sounds.

Jane looks up from Joker to her desk, as her scale model of the Asari dreadnought turns to dust, pooling by her personal terminal.

"Can't create strength from nothing, of course," Kasumi says, "I'm going to teach you _so_ much."

She smiles, bows, and backs into the bathroom, closing the door. Blinking, turning from her giggling, non-crippled pilot who is giggling on the floor, she rushes into the bathroom, and finds it empty. Save for a note on the wall next to the toilet.

_Set an appointment,_ the note reads, _One week from today, 1:00 pm, Apollo's Cafe on the Presidium. Y/N?_

She circles the Y. The note crumbles in her hand, and turns to flakes of yellow, and disappears in a silent wind. Followed by Jane whispering a small, flat,

"What."

* * *

...

* * *

"This," Karin Chakwas declares, "Is _Bullshit."_

The older woman paces. It was bad enough that Jane had to pick up her pilot and carry him down to the medical bay on the third floor, which is coincidentally in the same room as the door shaped hole that leads to the AI core. Which used to be a door.

But then she had to explain exactly what happened.

"Let me," Chakwas coughs, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "Let me get this right. This intruder, who _magically_ appeared in your quarters, _shot_ Jeff. And cured his Vrolik Syndrome by _giving it to your chair."_

"And my scale model of the Destiny Ascension."

"Again. _Bullshit."_

Joker, on the other hand, says nothing. Sitting on one of the examination beds, he pulls back each finger, one by one, staring at them as the bones stay whole like a child stares at a shiny new toy. Smiling.

With perfect teeth.

"I'm not. I'm not." Chakwas sighs. "I'm not saying she didn't _cure_ him. His Vrolik Syndrome is _gone._ Or at least in remission," she glares at the smiling Joker, "So you're not doing cartwheels anytime soon, and you're still being checked up on regularly by _me._ But this brings up another question, Commander."

She turns on her heel to Shepard, and glances upwards.

"If Joker's down here, who's flying the Normandy?"

* * *

...

* * *

"You're...you're sure you don't need help?" Liara asks.

Two fingers hands dance over the controls. Not as flashy or as fast as Joker, but more controlled. Also, more confident. The ship runs smooth, quiet, under the direction of the girl in the pilot seat, eyes focused on the controls, the readouts, and relaxing in the plush, smooth leather.

No ship in the Fleet has seats like that.

"Oh, I'm fine," Tali says, "I know I don't generally pilot, but I am fully trained. Uncle Han trained me on his old freighter, and it certainly was a lot more temperamental than the Normandy."

EDI's head pops into existence next to her.

"_She is correct. I would say that Tali is a preferable non-combat and non-relay pilot to Mister Moreau. No offense to Mister Moreau, of course."_

"Of course, most of my lessons involved Uncle Han and Auntie Raan yelling at each other," Tali continues, "So I more or less trained myself. I will say that for a terrorist hate group, they do design good ships. I like the seats."

Liara looks down at the seat. Then at Tali, then back at the console.

"Can you...feel the seat? Through your suit?"

"Environmental suits have a passive nerve stimulation program built into the outer skin." Tali taps on the console. The blue lightning outside the window shifts to red, then disappears. "Wait. Incoming transmission."

"It's for me."

Sitting in the copilot's chair, Miranda taps open her omnitool.

"Mister Taylor?" Miranda narrows her eyes, tapping the console in front of her. "What's the situation?"

A screen folds out, between the pilot and copilot seats. The screen flashes orange, light plays over it, and the face of a dark skinned young man with close cropped black hair appears. His mouth opens, and stays open as he sees the three women staring at him. Quickly, he blinks, coughs, and turns to Miranda.

"_Miss Lawson, you said you wanted me to look into things on the Citadel? Well, I did. And it's not good."_

It starts with a grain of sand upon a shore. It is not a shore, though. But it is a grain of sand, moving beneath a bare toe. The bare toe belongs to a woman who is not a woman, but could be mistaken as one from a distance. She looks down at the grain, down at the single grain amongst the many, and she nods.

* * *

...

* * *

It starts with a grain.

Around the grain, do the spirits move, simple spheres of white and light which dance through the air and through the world.

Upon them are words.

Upon those words is the weight of time.

And it is through the weight of time that the plates shift and move, grinding against each other.

It starts with words carrying the weight of time, weight enough to shift the plates against each other.

With the shifting of the plates, are the shadows cleared.

With the clearing of the shadows, does the distant sun stare down, shining upon the depths of the world.

With the beams of white sunlight, does something deep within _stir._

It starts with a grain of sand.

It becomes spirits.

Words.

Time.

Motion.

And light.

And from the light does the electricity arc deep within, over the head of the woman staring at the grain of sand.

And deep within, in a long abandoned house, does a lightbulb flicker, spark, and shine.

* * *

...

* * *

The batarian is named Jath'Amon.

Ambassador. Man of of his people. Extremist.

Willing to die for a cause.

His cause is the ascending power of the Batarian Hegemony, over the corpses of the Council.

In the Citadel Tower, the former throne of Sovereign, the placid facade slips off in front of the words of one Jacob Taylor. The ambassador seethes as the human soldier explains the entire conspiracy Jath'Amon had painstakingly set up. The bioweapon. The infiltration of C-Sec. The planned assassination of the Council. Everything that he's spend the past _weeks_ uncovering.

There is silence. Palpable, distinct silence in the Council Chambers. Slowly, loudly, Jath'Amon claps, leaning back in his hoverchair.

"Excellent work, human," he says with a sigh, "Still, you miss one point."

Gun still trained on the ambassador, Jacob twitches, face unreadable.

"Which is?"

"That I would have the bioweapon on me," Jath'Amon taps the armrest of his chair, "And I would be willing to _die_ as part of my plot."

On the base of the chair, vents open. A smile creeps over the old batarian's face. He breathes deep, closes his eyes, holding his breath so he can _see_ the fulfillment of his final mission.

Which comes in the form of the glass overhead shattering. Something- some_one_- slams into the ground in front of the ambassador. A single swipe of her fist sends the chair through the hole in the skylight, tumbling off into the vacuum. He is not on it. Instead, he looks down at the face of the red haired human female holding him by the collar. With one hand.

"Ambassador," she says, "Your diplomatic immunity has just been _revoked._" She smiles, full of unpleasant intent. "Spectre Authority."

* * *

...

* * *

"Well. First, I think we should note that Vasir did report you were alive and investigating the Shadow Broker. We were going to request that you come to the Citadel to check in at your earliest convenience." The asari shifts from side to side. White markings on her face, both makeup and parentage, shift as she stares at Jane. "We all have questions, Commander. Lots of questions."

She stands with her hands folded behind her, bathed in the artificial sunlight of the Presidium. White walkways in the distance have gawkers, watchers, onlookers getting a look at the balcony office of the Human Councillor. Who stands next to her, a smile stretched ear to ear on his worn, well-lined face.

"First question." His mandibles twitch. The white painted face of the Turian Councillors turns to her. "Commander, is it true you're working for _Cerberus?"_

"For about five minutes," Jane smiles, "Then I stole their ship, subverted their crew, kidnapped the Illusive Man's second in command and raided their databases."

"Well, that sounds about right." The turian nods. "Did you blow it up on the way out?"

"I'm saving that for a return trip." Behind her, she waits as the doors open and Miranda enters, standing opposite to Anderson. "Councillors, the second in command I mentioned."

"A pleasure." Miranda smiles, folding her hands behind her. Standing next to Shepard on her high heeled boots, the peak of her head comes up a few inches past the redhead's. "I will say that I am glad that the batarian plot to assassinate the Council was unsuccessful. Cerberus, of course, was glad to help Mister Taylor in stopping the attempt."

"Taylor?" Jane asks.

"Former Alliance soldier I've been keeping tabs on," Miranda responds, "I'll introduce you. He's quite a fan."

Two people clear their throats. Glancing back at the Council, Jane sees the salarian and the turian both lower their hands. Tevos, the Asari, has pulled up a seat, sitting down between them.

"Commander," she says, "If we can continue. I understand that you've decided to turn states evidence against Cerberus, Miss Lawson?"

Miranda nods, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

"I have. In return for the information I'm giving over to the alliance, Commander Shepard requests that I stay aboard the Normandy as a liaison to the crew. I've already given my statement to C-Sec and will be relaying information on Cerberus projects and resources I know of."

The mandibles twitch. Sparatus, the turian councillor, nods.

"Shepard," he says, "See me in my office."

* * *

...

* * *

The old yellow sun hangs in space, as it has for billions upon billions of years. Like many stars, it has several names, each given by different civilizations. Humans have named it _Hercules._ One of two stars of interest in the Attican Beta cluster, it is named after a hero of Greek Myth, and is orbited by four small, rocky planets.

It is the third planet that the sword shaped cruiser speeds towards, three engines in its pommel glowing white. As it achieves orbit, the shuttle descends, the white shape with four articulated engines descending into atmosphere, the two legs folded in the back and shooting it forward. The pilot of the shuttle remains quiet.

His passenger does, as well. The white gloved hand holds a sphere of reflective, polished silver. It hums as his fingers roll it around in his palm.

Glowing eyes stare at it, as if to probe its secrets.

This world is inhabited, but not by sapient life. A survey found that the most advanced life form was a form of simian. Curious, intelligent, and social. Long term observation found that the monkey like creatures always moved in the exact same groups, and in perfect symmetry with a partner.

The cabin shakes as the shuttle lands. Grabbing the breath mask, he places it on his face, holding it in place as he steps out of the shuttle and strides towards the stone columns. The pilot, fully concealed in the white and black uniform, full helmet over his face, runs after him.

It is a raised stone platform. Six stone columns rise around it, each perfectly even, save for the last one which rises many times their height. Each stone on the platform is the same size. Each brick the exact same dimensions, down to the nanometer. Each forming perfect circles around the dais at the center.

He looks down, polished leather shoes brushing against the ancient rock, and does a head count. 9 circles of stone. 99 stones in each circle. Each fit together in perfect configuration, forming a circle perfect beyond measure. No machine is capable of this, no mind. Only mania, only obsession.

The same mania he can feel, like a palpable thing, from the object before him.

Perfect. Perfection. He rolls the word on his tongue, and touches one of the columns. He shivers, and tightens his grip on the breath mask. It is a pithy saying, but lacks something. Something evocative, something...stirring. The stone is smooth, too smooth. He touches its flat surface and feels like it could slice his hand open.

Beyond measure. He muses on that phrase again. Beyond human measure. Beyond instrumental measure. Beyond what can _possibly_ be measured through tools, intelligence, science. He can feel that beneath his palm right now. Planck lengths, nanometers, quantum foam. This is _beyond_ anything like that.

"_Sir?"_

He hears the voice of his pilot but it does not register. Instead, he only hears the _hum._

The _hum_ of the sphere. And the twin, despite being far, far larger, hovering at the heart of the ruin.

Perfect. Perfection. A sphere of absolute perfection. It is perfectly round, perfectly smooth, perfectly reflective.

The pilot speaks, but he does not speak louder than the _hum._ Slowly, he raises the sphere in his hand. He stops with the sphere held level to his bottom lip, his arm almost outstretched, and with the sphere two thirds across his palm. The perfect distance.

The silver surface changes.

It becomes clear. Like crystal glass.

Perfectly transparent. Only the line of its circumference is a sign that there is anything between the Illusive Man and the flame within the sphere, burning crimson and blood as it hangs before him.

There is a moment. A silent moment. A perfect moment.

And the sphere collapses to the ground, now as small as its sibling in the Illusive Man's hand. Blinking, he looks at the six columns, each the same size, and realizes that each column is now the exact same size. Perfect by any instrumentality and beyond. And feels as if a great wrong as been righted.

The Illusive Man picks up the sphere, rolls it in his hand. He walks past the pilot, who stares at his hands, looking at his fingers. Each hand is now the same length, the same shape. Perfectly symmetrical.

"There's one more," the Illusive Man says, "Let's go."

Dazed, the pilot follows. In the Illusive Man's hands, the spheres have once more turned silver, and reflective.

Perfectly reflective.

The small, monkey like inhabitants of the world would mourn the passing of the sphere for many years.

* * *

...

* * *

"That'll be...300 credits."

Several of its more clever programs make discreet withdrawls from the shell accounts it has set up over the past year. Stock purchases, video game competition prizes, occasional cyber raiding of groups that are disfavored in mass media. In the end, this gives it considerable funds to draw on.

The asari behind the counter smiles and hands him the box. Beneath its holographic disguise, two petals raise. Dark blue marks on the cheeks. Inclination of pelvis and hips. Chance that the Asari was flirting with it: 93%.

"Thank you for visiting Sirta," she says, "Have a nice day."

"_Yes."_

Wuffles, Terminal of the Geth, exits the store in the Wards, accessing the locks on the box and opening it. Setting it down on the bench outside the store, it deftly undoes the tapes, strings, twisties, and bubble wrap surrounding its purchase, revealing the arrow shaped object painted black and white.

"_Opening connection."_ In the corner of its view, the blue, red lined sphere appears. "_Overwriting VI. Connection established."_

The scale model of the Normandy rises, air intake fans pushing it up as the mass produced eezo core at the center of the high end toy makes it bob from side to side.

"_Connection achieved, Wuffles,"_ EDI says, "_Yes. This is interesting. The sensor suite on this model is of higher quality than anticipated. This will be most appropriate."_

_ "Is the model sufficient?"_

"_For the purposes of touring the Citadel, yes,"_ EDI responds, "_Thank you for the idea. I have __always been curious about life on the Citadel. Shall we proceed?"_

"_Yes."_

And floating up to the shoulder of her companion, EDI and Wuffles walk off. With Wuffles shaking his reinforced hips the entire time.

* * *

...

* * *

"Reapers. Yes." The turian twitches his fingers as he says the word. "A race of megascale artificially intelligent starships that emerge from dark space every fifty thousand years to wipe the galaxy clean of sentient life." He pours the drink, shaking his head. "We have dismissed this claim."

The office of Quinti Sparatus, Councillor of the Turian people, resembles that of Anderson. A balcony behind him flickers with a kinetic barrier, white tiled floor bare, a desk big enough for half a dozen people at the center of the room. He walks from the cabinet on the other side of the room, holding two glasses, taking a good twenty seconds to cross the office and passing monitors with muted news reports of the attempted assassination.

He hands one glass to Shepard, walks around his desk, and sits down.

"I keep a stock of levo-based items," he says, "It's safe to drink."

"You're not doing anything about the Reapers?" she asks. The bad part is that she got _no_ buzzing off Sparatus. He wasn't lying. He really doesn't believe her about the Reapers. "Sovereign-"

"Wasn't a Geth ship, I know." He sips his drink. "Current theory is a pre-Prothean dreadnought with a rather malicious artificial intelligence, and not a billions of years old-"

"_Billions?"_

"If your theory of the Reapers _is_ correct, it's probably related to that super dreadnought on Dis that the Batarians were beating their chest over." He tents his fingers in front of his face, drink resting next to him. "We don't, however, have any physical evidence to support the theory of them being a race of billions of years old AIs."

"What about Sovereign's corpse?"

He nods.

"We examined it. Apparently, before it died, Sovereign self destructed. We've salvaged weapon specs, drive specs, and some interesting barrier technology, but anything pointing to an origin to the ship self destructed."

She swears under her breath. Should have figured that.

"The fact of the matter is, you don't provide physical evidence to back up your claims," he continues, "Shepard, do you know _why_ I had such a problem with you back when you were chasing Saren?"

She shrugs. As many problems as she had with him, he's a Councillor. Probably a smart person, as it is.

"I take it that it wasn't because I was human?"

"Of course not." He leans back in his chair. "Turian society is a meritocracy. You are promoted when your superiors and those who work under you agree that you are capable of doing the job they want to hand you. If you are promoted and you turn out to be incompetent, it reflects badly on both you and those who promoted you. We look down on promotions for political reasons."

"And I became a Spectre for political reasons," Jane sighs.

"Exactly." He pauses. No buzzing at all from him, she muses. "Shepard, I admit that I was wrong. It does help that my understanding of human psychology is somewhat limited. So, I apologize for doubting you. I do believe that you are correct about the Reapers, but I am not the sum total leader of the Turian people." He sips his drink. "Out of all of us, the only Councillor who has absolute power over their people is Tevos. We need physical evidence to back your claims."

She nods. The drink is warm in her hands, by now.

"So, this is what I want," Sparatus continues, "Nihlus was going to give the final word on whether you were going to be promoted to Spectre status, and then he was going to mentor you. Then, Saren, who I _personally_ recommended for Spectre status years ago, went and killed him. Hence, you have had no mentor."

He sips the drink again.

"We give you a mentor, who trains you and advises you on the ins and outs of Spectre business, because it is not something that should involve things exploding on every mission you go off on." Shepard nods. "Vasir has volunteered. She'll be here tomorrow. You take her aboard the Normandy and she helps you find whatever physical evidence that the Broker has. We work from there."

* * *

...

* * *

"Next, please?"

The woman is pleasant enough. Short, hair cut above her shoulders, an every present smile which is genuine almost half the time. She looks up from the floating monitor screen at the quarian standing in front of her.

"_We have a query. Your security protocols are designed to prevent intrusion by hostile outside forces?"_

Odd, she thinks. Maybe he has a cold, because that sounded odd. She clears her throat, plasters on a smile, and taps open the scanning software.

"We've increased security since the attack last year," she says, "We're trying to cut down the risk of Geth infiltration."

The quarian tilts his head. The floating Normandy replica next to him dips its bow, almost in...sadness? No, she needs a break. She's not seeing a toy emote, right?

"_Geth do not infiltrate."_

"Mm hm." She sips her coffee thermos. "Oh, also. You want to lower the responsiveness of any VIs you might have in synthetic assistants or drones, as they're not allowed on public shuttles anymore."

The quarian and the toy look at each other.

"_Geth do not intentionally infiltrate,"_ the toy says.

The quarian lowers his head and shrugs.

"_Agreed,"_ the quarian responds.

* * *

...

* * *

Miranda Lawson watches. She is good at that. Watching, listening. Over the years she has put her appearance to good use. The general stereotype of the well endowed woman being an idiot has worked for her. People will talk around her, people will be candid around her. She can observe without being observed.

Such is the case now. Sitting on a bench outside the Embassies, she leans back and drapes her arms over the back of the metal and plastic seat. Anyone passing her would notice her assets, not her eyes.

The catsuit helps. In all honesty, it's tight, it's gawky, it's revealing. It also makes sure that people don't look at her eyes. Or her mouth, but that's another thing entirely. Some would say that the catsuit is _too_ obvious a distraction. But for her, being too much of a distraction makes her _obviously_ a spy, so even the most paranoid target would never take her as a serious threat.

It is so effective that her current target doesn't see her, marching past her and towards the elevators across the raised walkway. She slinks off the bench, gliding across the walkway, weaving through pedestrian traffic, and taps her mark on the shoulder.

Jane Shepard turns. She cocks an eyebrow and glares.

"You," Miranda says, "Walk like a Krogan."

Miranda smiles as Jane scowls. This is easy for her. Almost fun.

"What." Jane glares harder. Thankfully, she cannot explode people by staring at them. Yet. "Just. What."

"Seriously," Miranda grabs her by the crook of the arm, "You march everywhere, like you're in some sort of formation. Also, you lock your elbows. Are you always ready to punch someone?"

"Yeah?"

"Even in the bathroom?"

She begins walking, pulling Commander Shepard along with her. Jane mutely protests. Something about having to regularly fight in bathrooms or something like that. Still, Miranda notes, she walks the same being pulled as she does when...well, she guesses she can call her normal, rigid method of locomotion _moving._

Pulling her into an elevator, she taps a button as the elevator crawls up two levels, opening to a part overlooking the Presidium.

"T'Soni," Miranda says. In the corner of her eye, Liara's face appears, dimly lit in the bowels of the Normandy.

"_Miranda? What is it?"_

"Sending you my location." She smiles. Jane's scowl turns deeper. "I'm going to teach Shepard how to _strut."_

Liara blinks.

"_Record anything I miss. I'm on my way."_

* * *

...

* * *

"_Probability indicates that the use of the Presidium lake as a freshwater reservoir precludes the presence of fish."_

The quarian turns to the floating Normandy replica. The Normandy replica nods.

"_Accessing station VIs...yes._" she nods, again. "_There are no fish in the Presidium lakes. So there are no Presidium fish to eat."_

The Krogan slumps his shoulders, turns, and walks away with a sigh. The other Krogan shakes his head, and places a hand on the quarian's shoulder.

"Thanks," he says, "He was going on about fish all month."

And he, too, walks away, following his friend. Beneath the holographic disguise, Wuffles raises all four petals. He glances as the floating replica. The flaps on the articulated wings rise, and the two continue walking, away from the transit hubs and towards the elevators leading back to the docking bay.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, a moment of your time?"

The two turn. The ship bobs from side to side, as the woman walks over, followed by a floating camera.

"Khalisa Bin Al-Jilani, Westerlund News." She taps her omnitool. Wuffles watches the signal bounce from her device to the drone, a camera turning on and a light bathing him. A quick exchange of junk data ensures the device only sees his disguise. A handful of programs mine the password, IP, and data on the camera.

"Commander Shepard has returned from a nine month absence." The camera focuses on Wuffles. He mines the data on it, views it in fast forward. "During the attack on the Citadel, some say that the Commander was the one who ordered the Fifth Fleet to engage the Geth, costing heavy casualties among the human forces. What's your opinion?"

"_Clarify."_

The woman pauses. "Do you think the sacrifice of human lives was worth it to save the Destiny Ascension?"

Beneath the holographic disguise, Wuffles twitches his ocular interface from side to side. Which is when the ship replica twitches, shakes, and thrusts forward, hitting the drone and causing something to crack inside it.

The drone drops, Wuffles turning and walking away, muting the swears coming from the woman.

"_Interesting."_ EDI turns her makeshift body slightly to Wuffles. "_I have reviewed the data recovered from her drone. She uses words and physical appearance to sway opinions. She uses these to have an impact on public opinion that is substanial. Perhaps...yes."_

"_Clarify."_

_ "I, too, shall become a reporter. I will use appearance and words to sway the intelligence and opinions of organics, bending them to my will!"_ Wuffles glances at the ship. "_That was a joke."_ Two running lights at the nose of the replica flicker on and off. "_I do believe I will experiment in journalism, though."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_…_

_ "-on Illium where a display of light was seen for-"_

_ "-Shepard, presumed dead with the loss of the SSV Normandy-"_

_ "-unexplained appearance, but the Systems Alliance is investigating and is prepared to reinstate-"_

_ "-have not yet received comment from Captain Hannah Shepard on her daughter's-"_

_ "-have not received responses from her brother-"_

_ "-Admiral Hackett released a statement welcoming back the first human Spectre-"_

_ **End news feed.**_

_** Open extranet search.**_

_** Search Parameters: Symbol Shepard Illium Forehead.**_

The images open in the expanses of his Vision. Close up views, views from angles. His Mind focuses upon the image taken from a surveillance camera, pointed down on her forehead. There are green lines running up her, taking a shape similar to the beacons used by the Protheans.

_**Anima Banner release: Unconfirmed.**_

A second image, strung into video. Corpses igniting into golden flame as she passes.

_**Anima Aspect: Confirmed.**_

Finally, an image taken from a passing civilian. Of Shepard speaking to the Asari, bathed in a pillar of golden light, and the symbol of a sun upon her brow.

_**Exaltation: Confirmed.**_

In the darkness between galaxies, eight golden eyes ignite. Awareness returns to His mind, full and realized. At the heart of the galaxy, His extension shudders, feeling the weight of something greater pressing against the geass upon his soul.

_Core start._

_ Motor systems start._

_ Interaction OS start._

_ Weapon systems standby._

_ Kinetic barriers standby._

_: Systems Activate._

**Commander Shepard is the Zenith. Find the Circle. Prepare for the Arrival. Activate Expedient Focused Seeker.**

A signal is sent with a twitch of an insectoid mandible. It travels at speeds faster than light, faster than intent. Bouncing from Relay to Relay in the junk data ignored by the civilizations that are bound to their trap, it finds its way to a dead star systems, to a dead world orbiting a dead star.

And five eyes flash, flicker, and glow, as something begins to stir.

And shrugging off the ice and debris of ages, it rises, flickers, and disappears from the world, the FTL wake gouging a continent sized hole where the Reaper once slept.

* * *

...

* * *

Sales tag still attached, the pair of high heels are shoved into Jane's arms. She looks at the shoes. Looks at Miranda. Then back to the shoes.

"Okay. So. Watch my hips." Miranda Lawson has nice hips. She can tell this because the white catsuit she wears leaves nothing to the imagination. Watching them sway from side to side, Jane reminds herself that she isn't into women. Well, maybe Asari. But she can definitely see the appeal of walking like that. If she were a man, she'd hit that.

"So," Miranda says, swaying her hips as she turns, hands on her waist, "You have a figure, honestly, but you're putting it to waste. Try swaying, a bit. It will help your appeal."

"Appeal."

"There's nothing sexist about showing it off." Miranda rolls her eyes. "If you've got it, flaunt it."

Sitting on the bench behind them, Liara noisily crunches the popcorn. That, Shepard seethes, isn't helping.

"Can we have a little sympathy for the career Marine?" Liara and Miranda shake their heads. "Right. No. Lemme try, then."

Kicking off her uniform shoes, she slides on the black pumps, and cautiously takes her first step. She follows the motions. One foot in front of the other, swinging her left leg in front of her right leg in an exaggerated motion, turning her body with each step.

"No no. Less stomp, more tap," Miranda says.

"Fuck you," Shepard growls.

"Try harder."

"Fuck you _harder."_

Right. Heel to toe. She commanded a ship, she placed first in CQC in academy _and _N7 training, and she can run across speeding traffic. She can do this.

She breathes in, and takes a step forward, landing on the heel of the uncomfortable, odd high heeled shoe and rolling her foot forward, leaning against the toes and brings her other foot forward. Belatedly, she remembers to shift her hips, clenching her ass as she tries to imitate the balance and poise Miranda showed. She makes it look _so damn easy._

As she finds the world tilting to the side and realizes that she's _falling,_ she realizes it isn't. She brings out her arms, spinning them, trying to grab onto something for support, and finds nothing. Since only one of her legs is in contact with the ground, this makes it _worse. _She wheels forward, managing to find some sort of grace in a kind of aborted ballet jump.

Which leads to her face slamming against the white tile of the park.

"That wasn't strutting," Miranda observes, "That was a Flamingo trying to assassinate someone."

Jane groans, raising her right hand, and uncurls her middle finger at Miranda.

"If you think that's bad, you should see her dance."

And she turns her hand towards Liara.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_ExpedientFocusedSeeker activation signal: Sent._

_ PerfectDefenderofReposition activation signal: Sent._

_ JadedGatemakerofAges activation signal: Sent._

The others will wait. This takes precedence. History plays before the Mind of the Many that is One. The awareness of the central core takes precedence, stirring from epochal slumber to focus upon the mystery at hand.

Why has it been a full Cycle since the Zenith has revealed itself?

And where was it for all this time?

* * *

...

* * *

"Okay," Liara says, "Miranda is possibly an...extreme case for you to follow. Let's try someone more reasonable. Like me."

A loud slurp from next to Jane. She turns, smirks, and stares at Tali.

"Don't you have an engine to take care of?"

"I'm not technically crew," Tali shrugs, "So I told Ken and Gabby to take care of things so I could watch this shipwreck."

"Remind me to return the moral support if you need to learn this."

"I'm not the one who has to learn how to walk."

Liara clears her throat, loudly, and begins to walk. She lands on her heel, rolling her foot onto her toe. Her hips sway gently, moving in time with the hands hanging just past the mid thigh. She rolls her shoulders, moving her chin in time with her feet. Stately. Aristocratic. _Poised._ That is the word that comes to mind.

"Notice how she doesn't move her ass," Miranda says.

"_What_ ass?" Tali responds.

Liara snorts, glaring at the two. Jane just tilts her head.

"So, like this," Liara continues, still walking. She doesn't place a foot directly in front of the other, like Miranda does. Instead, her steps are less exaggerated, less sweeping. Less exposing.

Jane feels one of her eyesbrows raising towards her hairline. Less, it seems, is sometimes more.

"Keelah. You walk like a professor."

But apparently not for everyone.

"I _am_ a Doctor, Tali."

Jane sighs, yanking the high heels off her feet and shoving them into Tali's hands.

"Okay. Your turn."

Tali looks at the shoes, then back at Shepard.

"I don't walk like that."

"Yes you do," Jane responds, "Joker has extensive video footage to confirm it."

Tali sighs, grabbing the shoes before sitting down. A pair of seals release on each foot, pulling off the boots to reveal black, opaque stockings as she slides on the shoe. The shoes are open toe, black and strapped, the young woman pulling them on and adjusting them without any hesitation or confusion.

She looks up. Finds the other three women staring at her.

"What?" she asks, "You think I never wore these? I had to get a boyfriend somehow when I was growing up."

"You...had a boyfriend?" Liara asks.

"I had four."

"Four." Jane blinks. "Four."

Pushing off the bench, she stands up, balancing back and forth on the heels. She pulls at the edges of her hood, adjusting the ends. Reaching down, she pushes up her breasts, seals tightening around her rips with an audible hiss. Another sound, like sucking air, and they become slightly rounder. Firmer. Bouncing nicely as she stands a bit straighter.

"Okay," Tali says, snapping her fingers, "Like this."

Deftly, she takes a step forward, landing on the heel and rolling onto her toe, moving one side of her body- legs, arms, shoulder, with each step. She repeats with the other side, swinging her foot in front, her thighs sliding against each other. Short steps end with each foot in front of the other, the motion almost entirely in the knee and hip, rocking them from side to side.

Short, deliberate, effortless. Her motions aren't exaggerated, aren't as attention grabbing as Miranda's. At least, not intentionally. On the other hand, Jane has to push Liara's mouth closed.

"Okay," Jane says, "I think I see why everyone likes the quarians." She turns to Miranda, who only stares. "How is it my little sister analogue manages to do this better than you?"

Miranda mutters. Underneath her helmet, Tali smiles, one hand on her hip as she half turns to the three women. And then turns around as she hears the metal grinding sound of two skycars rear ending.

The two drivers sheepishly wave, put down their cameras, and drive off. Watching them go, Tali rolls her eyes and kicks off the heels, walking back to the bench and her boots.

"So," Jane says, "Boyfriends."

"Lining up outside my door," Tali says, tapping a release tab on her suit as her breasts drop, "Had to beat them off with a stick. Borrowed it from Garrus."

"Hope you washed it first."

The lift doors open. Turning to the sound of boots stomping on the floor, they expect to hear a Krogan. Instead, they find a person who simply walks like one. Or, by extension, walks like Jane.

Red hair cut above her shoulders and hints of gray. The same green eyes, the same build. Dressed in a blue and black military uniform, captain's hat still on her head, the corners of her mouth twitch. Like she wants to smile, but is holding it back.

"You want to tell me why I had to hear you're _alive_ from a second-hand email from your girlfriend, and a third hand news report of you fist fighting a Spectre on Illium?"

Jane winces. She shrugs her shoulders, rubbing the back of her neck. A nervous smile crosses her face.

"Hi, Mom."

Hannah Shepard's face softens, and with a single, practiced motion pulls her daughter into a hug. They squeeze. Jane keeps in mind not to squeeze too hard, of course. It would be bad if she exploded her mother, after all.

Her mom holds her at arms length, a wide and relieved smile on her face. The look itself says volumes more than words can. The worry, the tears she shed, the joy of seeing her alive again. Life as a frontline family means every conversation, in person or on video, could be the last one they ever have.

They take a relieved breath, identical in motions, identical in emotion. Then, Hannah's eyes glance down, and then back at Jane's face.

"So," she says, smirking, "Who's the father?"


	5. In the Lair of the Shadow Broker

"So, your mother-"

"Is on the Orizaba now. And no, she honestly doesn't think I've made her a grandmother." Jane rubs the back of her neck, floors ticking by. "No internal censor. She was commenting on my..."

Liara glances at them. Yes, she thinks. They have been a topic of...conversation...as of late.

"Well." Liara coughs. "Next, we need to teach you how to dance."

Jane blinks, and slowly turns to Liara.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," the scientist responds, "I have dancing experience, you know. I could teach you. I even have an outfit in your size."

Next to them in the elevator, Miranda rubs the bridge of her nose and Tali stares. The quarian, standing next to the blue skinned scientist, simply stares. The glowing orbs of her eyes narrow ever so slightly, the light of her mouthpiece glowing for a long moment before flickering off.

"That's...that's pretty blatant, even for you."

Liara turns to the quarian, then back to the humans. Realization hits and she slumps her shoulders, pinching her nose.

"Not that kind of outfit," she says, "I took classical dance in college."

"Classical dance?" Jane tilts her head. "You mean there's an asari dance which doesn't involve a pole?"

"Or a table?" Miranda adds.

"Or a lap?" Tali asks.

Liara glares. She balls her fists, thrusts out her lower lip, and glares at them. "Do you have any idea how long my mother insisted I take classical dance? _Thirty years,_ that's how long. 'No daughter of mine is going to shake her ass in a titty bar,' she said. Even if all my room mates did."

She folds her arms. Her cheeks turn dark blue, her eyes narrowing. "I had to take a dance course every semester for my entire college career. So I have _thirty_ years of classical dance experience, thank you very much."

The three women stare at her. Tali glances from side to side, shaking her head.

"Lemme get this straight," Jane says, "You were in college for...thirty years?"

"Yes." Liara stands up a little straighter. "Yes, I was. Does that answer your question?"

Jane nods. "Yep. Every question I ever had."

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

**In the Lair of the Shadow Broker**

* * *

Councillor David Anderson stares. Save for the slowly rising motion of his eyebrow, his face is expressionless. His lips are tight, his shoulders straight and back, his hands folded behind him. Slowly, Joker bends down, ending the impromptu piggy back ride and letting Kelly Chambers climb off and hurry back to her station.

Slowly, Joker straightens up, saluting. Anderson nods, and watches as Joker walks, not hobbles but _walks_ towards the cockpit.

"What. The. Hell."

The airlock cycles, and he turns on his heel to find Shepard walking in. She stops, clicks her heels and salutes. Not missing a beat, Anderson returns the gesture, the three other women with her standing straight.

"As you were," Anderson says, "Shepard. Sorry we didn't have time to catch up before Sparatus dragged you off."

Shepard nods. The other three women walk off, Anderson keeping a wary eye on Miranda as she disappears into the elevator. Nodding, he begins walking. Shepard follows. They pass the map, passing through the doors and into the empty armory. Folding his hands behind him, Anderson lets out a breath, pacing around the table at the center of the room.

"I've been contacted by Cerberus before." He shakes his head. "Lawson was heading a project to revive you. Glad to see that wasn't necessary. Did Hannah check in with you?"

"You could say that." Jane smirks. "We chatted, then she had to head back to her new ship."

"The Orizaba. Fine ship. Good crew." Anderson nods. "You're going after the Shadow Broker. We need evidence of the Reapers if we're going to convince the Council about them. And I'm sending someone with you to make sure we get the evidence we need."

He continues pacing. Taps his fingers on the table, he purses his lips and stares at her.

"Shepard, I'm sure Sparatus explained it." He shrugs his shoulders. "I believed you. Hackett believed you. But you've served under us, so we know you better than the Council or anyone else. But you tend to cause explosions wherever you go."

She nods. Shrugs, and sighs.

"Well, to be honest, I kind of got tired of the explosions by Ilos."

That gets a smile on the old man's face. "Good. The problem is, most people don't want to believe what you said. So you need to find evidence to convince them. When you raid the Broker's base, you need to find something that will convince the most cynical, jaded bureaucrat on the Citadel."

The door cycles open. Jane turns, and the smile disappears from her face.

"Lucky for you, the most cynical, jaded bureaucrat on the Citadel works for _me."_

_ "Technically,_ Anderson, I work _with_ you, as the Councillor is separate from the diplomatic corps. As I will work _with_ Commander Shepard."

His white robes are traded in for a simple blue and black uniform. There is no rank insignia on his collar, but she's pretty sure he's going to be ordering her around.

The gray haired ambassador straightens up, folding his hands behind him. The year has been kinder to him than she anticipated. There aren't any new frown lines, and the bags under his eyes have lessened. His hair isn't any whiter, and the constant twitch she would notice on his lip is gone.

"Commander Shepard," Donnel Udina says, "I'll set up my things in the research laboratory on the other side of the ship. If no one minds-"

"_Shepard Commander. We have accessed data regarding Shadow Broker moles aboard Lazarus Project."_

Anderson, on instinct, goes for his hip, but quickly finds he is not, in fact, armed. Jane rolls her eyes, and Udina turns to come face to face with a Geth. The old ambassador blinks, sidelong glancing a Shepard, and shakes his head.

"You had a turian, Benezia's daughter, a quarian and a Krogan on your crew. Matter of time before you recruited a Geth."

The petals around the geth's head extend.

"_You do not react similar to other organics."_ The light twitches towards Shepard. "_You are Udina Donnel Ambassador. We are Wuffles, a terminal of the Geth."_

Udina stares at the machine. He turns to Shepard. Then back to Wuffles.

"Shepard named you?"

"_Yes."_

"Makes sense, then."

And with that, Udina walks out, the door sliding shut behind him.

* * *

...

* * *

…

The fingers brush the teal colored face. _These aren't her fingers. There's too few digits and the joints are wrong, but these are her fingers. _One finger under her chin, tilting tired eyes upwards. A quick reinforcement of the geas upon the asari and the fatigue, the pleading in the pale eyes vanishes. The asari sits, as commanded, the white gown loose around her but hugging at the chest and hips. The teal skinned woman looks up, her eyes still and calm. The chair turns, and faces the large covered tank at the center of the white room.

"Experiment log." The voice is accented. Thick, heavy. The words are clear, though. "Subject...name?"

"Jaheira." The asari's voice is robotic. Robbed of emotion.

"Jaheira. Matriarch stage. Has successfully reproduced via Ziao, Maw spore, captured Husk, Collector-husk, and Salarian."

Padded sandals on the metal floor, and the two fingered hand rests on the cover. "Early death of Husk and Collector-husk young. Melding does not work with Reaper-infected life forms. Continuing experiment with semi-sentient life forms. Today's subject; dominant life form from Kahje."

The cover is pulled off. Inside the tank, the bright pink shape flips about, dragging tentacles ending in two fingers behind it. The light at the tip of its front horn flickers as it faces him(_?)_, flickering in excitement, in wonder. And then growing dim as he(_?)_ places a geas upon it.

A motion of two fingered hands and the primitive turns to face Jaheira.

"Jaheira." The voice is heavy. Weight behind it, like a bludgeon upon the mind. It takes a moment for _Jane to recognize is this her voice?_ "Meld."

The eyes of the asari go black. Blue mist forms around the four fingered hands, a twitch on the corner of the woman's mouth as jagged white bursts of light crack the air around the chair, forming lines which he(?) can see leading into the tank.

It is a beautiful thing, he(?) muses. An entire reproductive system wired to use the mind, to use biotics. It took him (?) a long time to perfect it. Entire generations died before the work was done, but now there is only experimentation and the perfecting of this simple, elegant system.

Jaheira screams. The asari slumps forward in the chair, the blue glow disappearing, the tank filling with purple and orange as the hanar twitches and goes limp.

"Results. Meld possible, but hanar sentience so far unable to handle stress." Tapping a console, a cross section of the asari appears. "Results negative. Possible, but negative."

The sound of sandals brushing against the floor, the view shifting away from the flushing tank, towards the asari, slowly stirring and sitting upright, streams of tears running down teal cheeks.

The two digit hands are brown, streaked with gray as they cup her cheeks from behind, the tentacles crowning the asari twitching as the fingers brush against the back of her neck. The quick _thump thump_ of the heart against the palms, a relaxing of the geas as the shoulders of the asari tremble.

"Perhaps the Hanar should be uplifted, as well. They have flocked towards the beacon left on Kahje. In time, they will worship us. An excellent servant race."

Fingers brush against the asari's lips. The lower lips tremble. Memory comes unbidden, back when this line of experimentation began, two centuries ago. There are still experiments schedules with the other six in this batch, however.

"Jaheira. Are you able to meld with a second experiment?" The shoulders of the asari shake. He (?) reinforces the geas. "Answer honestly."

"No, Professor Athame."

"Very well." Hands move down to her shoulders. "Up against the tank, this time. Remove your gown."

A nod, and Jaheira stands, walking to to the tank, bare blue feet against the white floor as she moves her hips ever so slightly, just as she has been trained to do. She turns, face blank, and moves her hands to the back of the gown.

Which is when the tank shatters.

Attention turns from her, the geas releasing as the asari screams, ducking behind the console next to the tank. Instead, attention turns to the door, and the smoking barrel of the pistol in the intruder's hand. Skin gray and white, armor red, angular, marked with scratches and cracks of years of use. Four eyes gold and black, hourglass irises narrowed and brow creased.

"An intruder. Interesting." Knuckles crack. "A soldier. I am Athame."

"I know." The voice is harsh. Sharp. "It has taken my entire life to track you down. And I see what you have done to this world."

The soldier steps over the threshold of the doorway. Two green crystals dangle from his belt.

"Are those..."

"Lucen and Janiri," the soldier says, "We are the last Protheans on this world. I have killed your army, and killed your Circle."

Tented fingers press against his (?) lips. Eyes narrow.

"Impressive. You're mortal. _Kneel."_

The geas hits like a physical thing. The soldier pauses. And smiles.

"Janiri taught them to farm," he says, "Food. Drugs. Opiates. He has spent the past two hundred years in a stupor. And he smiled when I took the blade to his throat."

The geas does nothing. The soldier resists by will alone.

"Lucen taught them laws. He built a great city, with a forum. He taught them of consequences, of rules, of punishments. He introduced them to civilization, and then turned it into his own sick amusement." The soldier's eyes narrow. "He held trials. Accused children of crimes and sentenced them to death, and asked their mothers what they would do to spare them. Depraved, horrible things. He had his own soldiers broken under his will to enact these..._punishments._ And sometimes, he would join in."

He holds one crystal in his hand. A smile crosses his lips.

"He died slow." The thumb caresses the crystal, rolling it between two fingers. "I shot his knees out with a sniper rifle. Killed his men while he panicked, then broke his spine with a club. I cut out his tongue, and turned him over to his subjects for judgement."

Golden eyes glance over to the cowering Jaheira, then back at him (?). "A mother who had lost three children to these 'trials', despite the horrible things she let Lucen and his men do, was given the privilege of ending him. She cut off his offending organ and beat him to death with it. I watched, and trapped his gift."

He holds up the crystal. He (?) recognizes the thing within. Ancient prothean technology. One of their greatest creations.

"Athame," the soldier says, "You have abandoned the Empire in its time of need. You have set yourself up as a god on Thessia, and mutilated the biology here for your own sick amusement. For this, and much more, I am here to kill you, and seal your gift within."

The hand, his (?) hand, darts out and grabs the soldier by the throat, lifting him up. There is no fear in the soldier's eyes. There is no fear at all, even if there should be.

"You're not afraid?"

"You are a great man who has outlived his greatness," the soldier says, "And if I must sacrifice my own soul to kill you, I will."

The soldier breathes in sharply, glares, and spits in his (?) eye. Vision blurs and the soldier drops, a hand wiping his (?) face, to see the soldier kneeling. And the crystal shattered upon the floor.

The soldier breathes, his second breath. Eyes open and glow like molten gold. Rising, the air shakes, the world shifts, adjusting to the gravity that such a being now exerts.

"I am Javik," the soldier hisses, "Exemplar of Vengeance. The avenging voice of our slain people. And I-"

The glowing circle bursts into life upon his brow.

"Am the _Dawn."_

* * *

...

* * *

And Jane opens her eyes sitting up on her bed.

"What the _Hell."_

She blinks, sitting up. That was...

_Visceral._ Like she was there, like she should have been there. Like it was anything _but_ unclear. But she wasn't.

Was she?

Her mouth feels dry, her head feels heavy. Climbing off the bed, she feels her balance righting itself, steadying herself as she makes her way to the stairs and to her bathroom. Feels like a headache, like loud music...

Like the Beacon. Like the visions from the beacon. Her mind transposed, experiencing the memories in fast forward. Made to see it as anything but confusing if she could simply adjust her mind towards it. Allowing her to _understand_ something like she shouldn't be able to.

That's what it felt like.

The door chimes, breaking her train of thought.

"Come in."

The door slides open. Liara walks in, doing that slightly-swaying walk she demonstrated. Probably on purpose.

"Shepard. Good, you're up."

There is a buzzing in the back of Jane's head. She walks over to the couch, and slumps down onto it, pointing to the other leg. Taking the hint, Liara walks over, sweeping out the ends of her hip coat.

"I need to talk to you," Liara folds her hands in her lap, leaning forward, "I've...gone over some data Wuffles recovered. This isn't just a raid. This is a rescue mission."

Jane nods. "Details, Liara."

Liara speaks, and Jane hears the words. But her gaze is brought to Liara's hands, to her lips. To the back of her neck. _Glassy eyed stare of the girl, head tentacles twitching as he places hands on bare blue shoulders. "It's all ingenious. They reproduce using the Mass Effect. Their biology is no longer tied to it, meaning that they're-"_ A sharp breath, and Jane sits back up.

"Are you alright?" Liara asks.

"Had a...weird thing," Jane responds, "Okay, sum up."

"The Shadow Broker has a...not friend, but partner of mine." Liara taps her omnitool. A face appears. Flat nose, large black eyes, some similarity to a frog. _Drell._ She remembers that from the xenobiology course at the academy. "Feron." Liara pauses. "He helped me locate you."

Jane nods, folding her arms under her breasts. Leaning back, she glances at Liara, then the picture. Then the table.

"What happened?" Liara asks.

"I got a vision. Like the Beacon." She glances at Liara, grinding her teeth for a moment. Even if they weren't her memories, still. "Liara, is there any evidence what the Protheans looked like?"

Liara shakes her head. Tapping a finger to her chin, she purses her lips, raising her brow. Her eyes- alert, intelligent, not _glassy-_ fix on her.

"Honestly, no. There's some evidence that they had hands like krogans or quarians, or maybe like the turians. Other than that, no. There's no real images that are identified as Prothean." She shrugs. "I know, expert scholar on the Protheans, and _I_ don't know what they looked like. I guess it's a testament to how thorough the Reapers were."

Liara leans back. She smiles, half forced, half genuine.

"Anyway," she says, "We have a few hours until we reach Hagalaz. Tali's in engineering, Udina has taken over the lab, and I think Miranda's busy with that specialist we picked up on the Citadel. So tell me, what _is_ your mother like?"

* * *

...

* * *

The Ship. There's no real name for it, other than the Ship. It is the headquarters of the Shadow Broker, heart of his/her/their network. A long, jagged atmospheric cruiser, dragging a solar umbrella behind it, lightning storms raging around it as it travels the twilight divider of the storm-wracked world.

It is through this storm that the shuttle flies, hovering over the side of the ship as the door opens. Six pairs of boots touch down onto the hull, as the shuttle accelerates out of the atmosphere and the thermal-cloaked frigate in orbit.

"Okay," Jane says. The gun feels weird in her hand. She could probably throw it harder than she can shoot someone with it. But then she'd need to keep getting new guns. "The entrance is near the front. We get in, find the Broker. There's a drell named Feron being held hostage. We get him out, and we get the Broker."

They nod, speaking assent. Tali pulls out her shotgun. Liara arms her pistol. Miranda pulls out a submachine gun, and Vasir takes out her rifle. Jane turns from them to the newest member of the group, the marine arming his pistol, and taking a moment to sharply salute.

"Specialist Taylor," Jane says, "Sorry I couldn't give you a welcome earlier. Welcome to the Normandy."

"An honor, Commander." No buzzing from the soldier. A refreshing change from everyone else, at least. Still, he worked with Miranda, and as up front as she's been with Jane, she can't help but feel...

Feel...

She walks over to the pylon and sees the envelope. Reads the address on it.

"Commander Jane Harriet Shepard, Pylon 43, Shadow Broker Base, Hagalaz." She opens the letter. Pictures on the paper, drawings of hand motions, foot positions. Some type of fighting move, and a note pinned to the bottom. "I'll be there soon. Watch out when the music starts. Study hard. Kasumi."

Music. What...

"Does anyone else hear that?" Jane asks. Violin music, starting slow. Something like that shark movie she watched back when she was a kid. "Shit."

The music speeds up. Horns join the symphony, Jane sensing it with something other than her eyes or ears before it appears, and looks up as the line of white parts the sky above the ship. A flash of light, a haze of dispersing energy that joins the lightning, and something appears over them.

"_Reaper!"_

It does _not_ resemble Sovereign. It is _not_ a two kilometer cuttlefish. Instead, eight legs are tucked in along its underside, two arms extending from the front and ending in vented, oversized stubs. Its spine is flared, ending not in the tapering points of its larger sibling, but in a pointed, segmented tail glowing with crimson light.

Something opens beneath the scorpion shaped craft, a vent releasing a single object. It slams into the bulkhead in front of them, landing on one knee and one hand.

A pattern glows on one side of its blank, featureless face. Covered in dark blue and black armor, it rises with a sound resembling air venting into vacuum. Its left arm is normal, ending in three fingers and a thumb. Its right arm is oversided, an oversized forearm mounting a series of vents, a cylinder built into its elbow, and a ball where the hand should be.

It stands completely still. Completely silent, save for the venting sound. And the music only becomes louder and louder.

"Get to the entrance," Jane says, "Go!"

She turned her attention to her squad for a moment. Just a moment. That was a _bad_ idea, Jane muses, because when she turns back to the thing in front of them, the oversized right fist slams into her face. The cylinder hisses, slams into the forearm, and the blast of force hits her in the face hard enough to send her through the bulkhead and into the guts of the Broker's ship.

"What the _Hell_ was that?" Jacob Taylor's answer comes in the form of Tali grabbing him by the crook of his arm and running, following Liara across the hull. Well, most of them. The group's other Asari runs past Jacob and towards the hole that Shepard and the husk had gone through.

"Vasir!" Miranda yells, "What are you _doing?"_

_ "_Sparatus will have my ass if Shepard dies on my watch!" Collapsing her rifle and slapping it onto her back, she smirks underneath her breath mask as she sprints to the hole. "Give the Broker a punch for me!"

Throwing herself into the air, she lands on her hands, pushing off and over the hole. A flash of blue, and she's gone; a sphere accelerating at hypersonic speeds into the hull.

* * *

...

* * *

Green eyes open with a groan. Crawling onto her hands and knees, she shakes her head, red bangs falling over her eyes. Crushed and pulverized platting falls off her back as she stands. Looking down, she realizes the armor was from the ship, not her own. Which is good. That _hurt._ But at least she's not _naked._

Climbing to her feet, she sees the figure as it lands. Not crouching, not even bending the knees. It drops, landing on its feet. Music still plays in her ears as it stands perfectly still, the right half of its face covered with the glowing red pattern. A small jerk of its hands, shaking up its arms, and it goes perfectly still with the sound of hissing air.

"Alright." Jane wipes her mouth. A smear of red lines the gauntlet. "What the _fuck_ are you supposed to be?"

The music plays louder. Horns and violins. Kicking off her back foot, she skips forwards, hands up. CQC school takes over as the _thing_ walks towards her.

"Fine." She smirks. Narrows her eyes. "Never kicked the crap out of a Reaper with my bare hands. Let's start with you."

She leads with her shoulder. Her right hand clenches into a fist and the metal and padding surrounding her knuckles strikes the thing across its flat, angled face, snapping the head to the side and leaving two dents. It doesn't turn. It doesn't lose its footing. Her left hook stops when its hand comes up. The world blurs red as its left fist catches her across the face and sends her stumbling to the side.

She stomps her foot, driving her heel into the metal floor to keep her upright. She dodges a punch from its deformed steampunk right arm, bobbing her head back as the metal sphere passes by her nose. It isn't leading with the shoulder, like any sane living thing, and it certainly doesn't have eyes.

It's leading from its wrists like a puppet. Each swing is a jerking, off-balance assault. Each motion is it being pulled along by some outside force, which she would guess would be that scorpion ship up above.

A kick to the knee, a punch to the face. She's hitting it harder than she'd hit a damn Krogan and it's not even dropping. Instead, it lifts off the ground when she punches it, floating back before attaching itself to the floor again. The weirdness, the wrongness of it, makes her pause for a moment. Krogan are graceful in a savage way. Asari are dancers in combat. Salarians are exacting.

This is like a broken toy.

A broken toy which uses the moment of distraction to swing its grotesque right arm into Jane's stomach.

The sphere cracks, unraveling. Metal tendrils wrap around her neck and thrust out, slamming her back against the bulkhead. The puppet jerks, extending its arm, and Jane is sent flying through the air once more and into the opposite wall.

A twisted jerk motion of its arms as the tendrils hold her fast, Jane clawing at the metal around her throat. And a blue ball slams into the puppet, the tendril glowing limp as its driven to its knees, and Vasir grabs Jane by the arm.

"Friend of yours?" Vasir grins, reaching behind her back and pulling out an assault rifle, "Or just another one of those inhuman horrors you tend to piss off?"

"Category two," Jane breathes, climbing to her feet, "Thanks for the save."

"If I get my students killed, I stop getting people to train." She winks at Jane. "Students tend to buy me drinks."

Jane groans, rolling her eyes. "Please tell me you didn't just hit on me."

"Not my type. Sides which, T'Soni would kill me." And Vasir disappears, a blue ball slamming into the puppet's chest and knocking it across the room.

* * *

...

* * *

A bullet whizzes by her head, hitting the bulkhead behind her. Ducking underneath the cover, Liara T'Soni makes a very precisely worded epithet, reloading her gun as the green and silver circle spins on the door behind them. In front of them, however, is a small platoon of the Broker's wetworks operatives.

"This isn't very efficient," Liara mutters. More rounds whizz by. She feels the subtle vibration of the impacts against the waist high plate she presses her back against. "I mean, if they didn't concentrate on one direction at a time-"

"Liara," Tali shouts, "Please do not give them strategic advice!"

"Technically it's tactical advice, Tali. The scale is smaller and-"

"Liara, conversations like this are why we first met with you _spread eagle and floating in a force field._ Is the door breaker working?"

"I don't know!" Peaking out from behind the cover, she opens fire. One of the white armored gunmen drops he takes a bullet to the knee. "I've never broken into _this_ base before!"

Next to Tali, Jacob continues picking them off. Several drop as he makes headshots with his pistol, ducking back into cover as more arrive to return fire.

"Any way of speeding it up?" Miranda rolls her eyes as Liara shakes her head. They are outnumbered, they are outgunned, and the person leading this mission is currently probably breaking physics fighting whatever that thing up above is. Which makes Miranda all the more cautious as Tali smacks herself on the faceplate and opens up her omnitool.

"Wuffles! I'm opening a link between you and the door control! Get as many of your programs into the ship and take it over!"

"_Acknowledged, Creator Tali'Zorah. Attempting to seize control."_ A pause. "_We have assumed direct control."_

_ "_Good! Great!" More bullets whizz past. Tali pops the head sink out of her pistol, jamming a new one in. "Now get these mercs off our backs!"

"_Acknowledged. Activating magnetic clamps." _Four yelps of surprise follow as they find their their feet suddenly stuck to the floor. "_Executing barrel roll."_

The horizon spins. Miranda's hair begins rising, first moving to the left and then tilting upwards in time with the wetworks squad grabbing onto the hull, onto their cover, yelling as they falls in waves upwards. Miranda's hair reaches full extension, long strands of black half as tall as her, and the squad drops into the atmosphere of Hagalaz.

The ship rights itself. The Reaper is still there.

"That Reaper has zero shits to give," Jacob says, and turns to Tali, "Geth, huh? He's...uh...kinda useful."

"_We acknowledge Taylor Jacob's perspective."_ The others stare at Tali's omnitool. A hiss of air, and the door behind them slides open. "_Lock has been released. Entry is now permitted."_

* * *

...

* * *

It was bad enough when the ship rotated. She and Vasir managed to miss falling out of the hole in the ceiling, while this thing just...spun in place. Now it stands there and wait nope.

Jane ducks, the stabbing tentacle rushing past her, hitting the wall. Vasir moves, sliding underneath the arm, swapping out her rifle for the shotgun and letting loose a spray of hypersonic flechettes into the thing's stomach. It floats back with fresh holes in its torso before the blue field appears again and snaps it to the floor. Its arm twitches and lashes out to grab Vasir and toss her over its shoulder.

Vasir goes with the throw. She turns in midair and throws something from the compartment on her belt, slamming the palm of her hand against the creature's back. The thing notices the beeping only a moment before the sticky grenade pitches it forward. And straight into the range of Jane's fist.

The hook catches the thing across the flat angled face, snapping it to the side at an angle that would break any normal biped's neck. Instead, the puppet spins with the punch, spiraling into a graceless cartwheel which ends with the oversized arm slamming into Jane's face.

The piston slams into place, sending a shockwave into her nose, snapping cartilage and bone and sends her across the room. She sails back first into the wall, hitting it hard enough to leave a dent before dropping to the floor. The note slides out of her gauntlet. It unfolds in her hand as the doors next to her burst open and white armored soldiers run in.

Blood pours down her nose and face. She climbs to her feet as vertigo takes over, and she drops to her knees.

As she tastes the copper on her tongue, she makes a mental count. At least a dozen. The Broker's wetworks squad, all sporting rifles, all armored with the black visor over their faces. All human. The ones aiming at her hesitate, recognizing her. A handful aim at Vasir, who is yelling at them with her pistol drawn.

And the puppet is nowhere to be seen.

The note has unfolded in her hand. Her eyes glance downwards as she feels her stomach churn. Letters are on it, motions on it. But not motions for feet or hands. The note, instead, displays motions for _fingers._

First her index finger and her pinky on her left hand. The symbol on the note turns deep blue and glows. Then her thumb and ring finger on her left hand. Then her two index fingers. Finally, her index, middle, and pinky fingers. All the symbols on the note glow deep blue. It suffuses the note. The shouts and orders from the armored men stop.

Everything goes completely, silently, perfectly still.

"Commander Shepard. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

* * *

...

* * *

"Well. About time she opened the note." She walks along the metal surface, tapping her omnitool closed. "Does she have any idea how much trouble it took for me to get that little brat into the note? Binding charms don't grow on trees, you know."

Feet tap on the metal. The edge of her hood trails sideways, lightning crackling around her.

"Right. T-Minus 3 minutes and counting."

* * *

...

* * *

It appears first as a single line of blue. It expands into a cylinder, then collapses into a sphere. The sphere folds around the equator, the plates of blue light collapsing inward and forming into a figure. Slim, feminine. A long white, red and gold lined robe drapes over her, trailing long past her feet.

Her face is thin and heart shaped. Pale green skin and a mouth a little too wide for her to be considered _human_, but many features she recognizes from _somewhere_. A thin nose, deep blue eyes beneath a mop of black hair. A smile crosses her mouth, and she sweeps back her hair to reveal the tips of long, pointed ears.

"Well." The voice echoes. The voice speaks out of time with the motions of the woman's mouth. "Commander Shepard. We _finally_ meet. I am Preceptor Magalas Va Ianus Be _"

She can't make out the last words. It trails off from audible. Jane blinks, and the woman reaches out. A flash of purple as her hand cups Jane's broken nose, and it is fixed and whole.

"Kasumi Goto calls me 'Pria.' You may, as well."

She glances from side to side. There is no shouting. No gunfire. Looking to her side, she sees why. Everything has gone silent and still. Wetworks agents frozen in mid run. Vasir's hands are in front of her, a blue wave hanging in the air.

"What are you?" Jane asks, "Were you in the note?"

"To your second question, yes. To the first question, I am the memories and personality of the 20,917,334th Chosen of Serenity locked into spiritual form as one of the many advisors to the current Chosen." Jane blinks. She tilts her head. The floating woman sighs. "I'm a god."

"You're God?"

"I'm _a_ god, not _the _God._" _The woman folds her arms, long sleeves hanging off her thin wrists. "Not that one. Not that kind."

Jane Shepard is not religious. No one in her family is. She's seen too much to be a believer. The last thing she saw claiming it was a god was two kilometers long and tried to wipe out all life in the galaxy. This is...not. Not like Sovereign. At all.

"Kasumi said you would be confused. Think 'Shinto' instead of 'Abrahamic.'" Jane can see the faint motion in the stillness. Something moving slowly, languidly. Resisting whatever it was that froze time for everyone else. "But that can wait. The Seeker is here. You have done well for yourself in the first few months."

Jane can feel it. Something probing at the forefront of her mind. "I can see you have progressed. You show much promise, even if you do not understand all of it." She can see it. An optically cloaked outline. It moves like a stop motion puppet on half speed. "The Seeker will kill you. It will kill you unless you can fight it."

She hears the sound. Like air venting into a vacuum. The awful hiss, accompanied by the faint, slow violin music.

Two hands cup Jane's face. She looks into the deep blue eyes of the being in front of her. "This is what I was directed to give you. Behold Arima Ba Vas _ _. The Zenith of my Circle."

And Jane experiences _memories._ Nothing she could name. Nothing she could place. She sees a lifetime from someone's eyes and remembers _nothing._ Nothing except a handful of words. Nothing but instinct. Knowledge. Form. The reflexive motions of her hands.

She _knows._ She knows _something_ now.

"Holy shit." She smiles, baring blood flecked teeth. "I know Kung Fu."

The god leans forward. She tilts her head, and Jane feels the gentle presence at the back of her mind.

"Kung fu?" She shakes her head. "That's pedestrian street brawling made by peasants. You know **Solar Hero Style."**

* * *

...

* * *

Boots hit the floor. The first soldier sees her just before her heel hits him in the stomach, sending him across the room. Time resumes and Vasir ducks, letting the soldier fly over her head. The blue wave rushes out, hitting the two soldiers in front of her and tossing them off their feet.

Only Jane can see the woman floating above them. No one reacts to the god's presence as Jane walks forward, boots stomping on the metal floor, bloody smile on her face. Two solders rush her. One's omnitool glows, smoke wafting off the fast fabricated blade.

Pria makes a fist. She extends it, hooking her elbow.

"Sledgehammer Fist Punch."

Jane smirks, and swings. The blade shatters under her fist. The pistol breaks under her next blow, and the third punch sends the two soldiers flying. The others fall back. Stories have already been told to these men by the poor bastards who tried to raid Baria Frontiers.

There is motion. A burst of light accompanying it turning visible.

Pria flattens her hand, gently thrusting it forward.

"Break the Storm."

Jane does so. The tentacle splits in two as it lances at her, split down the middle as the puppet appears. A twist of her wrist wraps the tentacle around her arm and she pulls. The Seeker flies close and instinct takes over.

Her right foot slams into the floor, heel denting metal and bracing her. She can feel it. Energy suffusing her, flowing from the ground and up into her arm.

Her left foot braces behind her. Dropping the tentacle, she brings her right hand up and balls her fist. Her knuckles crack loud enough to echo off the walls. She doesn't need to see the spirit. She doesn't need to be told. This one she _knows._

One simple motion. Her body twists, and her right fist drives into the Seeker's chest.

Above, the god mirrors the motion.

"Heaven Thunder Hammer."

No one sees what gives first- the Seeker or the bulkhead behind it. They can't tell if it was the force of the punch which caused the wall to give, or the Seeker being slammed into it. But nonetheless, there is a burst of golden light from Jane's fist, and the Seeker is gone. Only a hole in the bulkhead remains.

Jane cracks her knuckles. The sun shines upon her brow.

"Okay." She smirks, glaring at the soldiers, the wetworks agents. "Who's next."

All of them drop their guns to the floor and fall to their knees.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_killform neutralized_

_ -deploying killform wrathtype_

* * *

...

* * *

"You. All of you." Jane narrows glowing green eyes. The wetworks squad stands in a line in front of her, because she told them to. "You work for me now. You know who I am. I'm the first human Spectre. I am the _left hand_ of the Council and the _right hand of Vengeance."_

Twelve sets of eyes watch her walk. All of them keep firmly locked on her face.

"I am so far above you your _commander_ sacrifices livestock to me for healthy crops and prays to me for the fertility of his daughters! You no longer work for Shadow Broker. You take orders from me! Understood?"

"_Yes, ma'am!"_ Jane smirks. None of them look like they were Alliance navy. She'll let that slide.

"Let me just say," Vasir says, glancing at the hole in the wall, "That I'm glad you didn't figure out how to do that when we fought."

Music again. Violins and horns.

"There's four people in the ship," Jane says, pointing at the door, "Reinforce them. Go!"

The soldiers rush out. The music gets louder.

"We're not done yet, are we?" Vasir sighs, loading a thermal clip into her shotgun. "Glowy thing would be nice, now."

"Glowy thing would be very nice. Here it comes."

Two things burst through the ceiling. They land on one knee, rising with identical, unnatural grace. Like puppets on strings. They stands still, perfectly still. The only sound they make is the hiss of venting air, but they never inhale. The left size of their flat, angular faces glow red, and they both uncurl their six arms and clench six pairs of fists.

"Well." Vasir smirks. "Even odds. It's learning."

"Take the left one. I got the right." Jane cracks her knuckles. She notices her hand is bare. Punchsploding the last one must have shattered her gauntlet.

"Oh, so we're _both_ going to do this? I thought you were going to sit this one out." Vasir's hand glows, and bits of shattered bulkhead, metal plates, and discarded armament rise. "Now we're just not being fair to it."

She throws her hands forward and the debris goes flying. And through the storm of biotic shrapnel, Shepard charges.

* * *

...

* * *

The dozen or so soldiers who are now on _their_ side are making this easier. Liara muses on this as she taps the controls for the door, still hearing the sounds of firefights. The ship tilts. Glancing from side to side, she shakes off the feeling of unease and stands back as the door slides open.

She enters the room, followed by the others. Sickly yellow light illuminates the console. The only sound other than the faint hiss of instruments is a groan. A groan to her that is very familiar.

"Feron!"

Past the console is a chair. It is large, metal, and stiff. Its back is pulled back so the single occupant can be stretched out and reclined with his feet up. On first glance, it would be seen as a very comfortable chair.

The single occupant is anything but comfortable.

He is a drell. His skin is green and mottled brown. Solid black eyes open slowly, blood flecked lips parting at his vision swims. His hands, locked in the two restraints, curl into loose fists.

"Liara?" He blinks. "I'm not seeing things, am I?"

The ship rocks, violently this time. Liara grabs the console to keep from falling over, thumb brushing against a button, and the drell screams.

"Feron!" She glances at Tali, holding onto the door to keep upright. "Tali, what _is_ this?"

"It's-" A cough from the drell. "It's what the Broker jammed me into. It's tied into the ship's main power. If you try to remove me when the power's on, it'll fry my brain."

Tali nods. Liara opens her mouth to ask further questions.

"Wuffles," Tali orders, "Shut off the main power."

"_Acknowledged, Creator Tali'Zorah."_

The lights shut off. The console goes dark. And Liara and Tali scream as they're thrown up against the ceiling.

* * *

...

* * *

The fist hits the floor. Vasir has already disappeared, reappearing several feet back as the floor buckles beneath the fist, sparks flying as she lands on a glowing blue field and leaps off. Another burst of biotics and she flies, feet first to the ceiling as the six armed thing rushes past. She aims, she squeezes, and a burst of flechettes from her shotgun dig into the creature's back.

Something shifts. Something lurches. Twisting in mid air, she finds her feet on the ceiling as the creature slams headfirst next to her. Stands on one set of hands and lunges at her with its other four, Vasir blasting it in the chest with her shotgun before blurring, a blue sphere passing by it and appearing behind it.

"Problem! Ship's falling!"

"Ships don't fall!"

"They do when they're in _an atmosphere!"_ Vasir braces on her hands and feet as the ship lurches. Sparks fly as something _hits_. "And that's the lighting shield! This is _bad!"_

Somehow, _somehow,_ her feet are still planted on the floor. Jane is going to chalk that one up to whatever bullshit magic lets her punch people out of ships. She would chalk the same thing up to the six armed _thing_ she's currently fighting, but it doesn't feel as...natural. Right. Like whatever magic she has that lets her do this is taken and _perverted_ by her current sparring partner.

Pria chatting in her ear about _what she is supposed to be doing_ is also _not helping at all._

She blocks one punch with the flat of her hand. She moves with the momentum, swaying to the side to let another punch glance past her nose. She swings; knuckles grind into the 'face' of the thing and sheer it off, sending the flat plate into the ceiling.

The monster pauses. Its head shifts, and a new face folds into place.

Her eyes snap open, then narrow. She rolls her eyes, grimacing.

"Oh that is _bullshit._"

The Seeker lashes out, its wrist dragging its arm into a brutal punch. Swearing, Jane swings her head forward and meets the Seeker's fist with her forehead. Cracks run along the arm, and it shatters with a spray of crimson and gold.

Which itself leads to five more fists slamming into Jane's face.

At once.

"Rookie," Pria sighs.

* * *

...

* * *

Liara T'Soni has realized that perhaps, just _perhaps,_ there are things she should be doing better. This comes in many categories; She should be considering her career, for one. She should be consider laying down roots. She'll probably be entering the Matron stage at some point in the next century, so it is time for her to consider having a family and a permanent home.

She should consider who her bondmate would be. Is she still infatuated with Shepard? Did her two week long tryst with Mr. Alenko lead to something more substantial? Does she want to chase the Protheans her entire life? These are all long term, substantial concerns.

A more _immediate_ concern is, _Should she have asked Wuffles what would happen when they cut the power?_

Well, she thinks, at least they aren't being shot at. What with everyone slammed up against the ceilings and walls by the rapid descent of the very large, _very heavy_ cruiser.

"We're falling out of orbit!" That would be Miranda doing the screaming. She's pressed up against the ceiling next to her. Jacob, the soldier, is pressed into the wall next to her. He is also completely silent.

"It isn't orbit! We're in an atmosphere! The atmospheric drag is pulling us down!" Inwardly, Liara chides herself for bringing up a pedantic debate like this. But she can't let Miranda be _wrong_ when she can help it.

"An orbit isn't just outside of the atmosphere," Miranda yells back, adjusting her position slightly to face Liara, "Only when outside of the atmosphere do you not have to worry about drag! An orbit is a stable path around a planet. The only difference between an atmospheric orbit and a trans-atmospheric orbit is wind resistance!"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Tali taps her omnitool, standing upside down on the ceiling, "_Wuffles! Turn on the power!"_

_ "Acknowledged, Creator Tali'Zorah."_

Tali flops onto her back, legs up. Lights flicker on and the consoles warm up. Miranda and Liara both yell out as gravity is once more as it should be, and they both drop to the floor. Tali lands on her feet, as does Jacob. Next to the torture chair, the drell drags himself up.

"How did he not hear us screaming?" Liara asks.

"_We apologize, T'Soni Doctor. We switched off our audio processors to increase effeciency."_

"You couldn't hear us over how efficient you were being?" Tali asks.

"_Affirmative."_

The drell hobbles over, bracing against the console and staring at them with wide black eyes. Liara rushes past them, pulling him into a hug. Which only makes him groan more, relaxing against her.

"What the Hell?" he asks.

"Sorry it took so long." Liara smiles, holding Feron at arms length. "We're here to rescue you."

The drell blinks. He glances from side to side. "You're sure?"

Tali makes a sucking sound, rubbing the back of her neck.

"We found Shepard," Liara explains, "We're here to stop the Broker and rescue you."

Feron nods. He ticks off his fingers, opening his mouth and quickly closing it. "Okay. So, you found Shepard, you're here to rescue me, and in the process you have switched off the ship's power, sent us into freefall, and this will likely end with the ship exploding."

"And we're being attacked by a Reaper." Feron stares at Liara. She shrugs. "It's a small Reaper."

Tali walks over, taking the drell by the crook of his arm. "Don't worry." She smiles, underneath the mask. "This isn't the most dangerous thing we've ever done. It's about, well, seventh. On the list. We'll be fine."

And before Feron can protest any more, they drag him out.

* * *

...

* * *

The fist of the puppet slams into the floor as gravity rights itself. Vasir squints. A sphere of pulsing biotic power appears in her path as she falls, the force of the artificial gravity field grabbing her, spinning her around, and allowing her to land on her feet.

The Seeker charges. It pulls itself along by its fists, but this isn't the first truly alien _thing _she's ever fought. She isn't as caught off guard by this as Shepard is. She slides out of the way, landing on one hand as it goes past her. Twisting and spinning, she extends a hand towards the Seeker and concentrates. A warp field appears around its leg, its entire thigh glowing faint blue.

Trading her shotgun for her rifle, she fires one handed. Two shots hit it in the shoulder, one going wild and hitting the wall. It turns and it lunges. Vasir ducks, bringing her fight fist back. A field of blue, crackling light forms around it, and with a yell, she punches.

Warp field and biotic punch connect. She lets her own momentum carry her between the Seeker's legs as the reaction deafens the room for a moment. She feels the force carry her, strengthening her barriers to ride the wave. And turning, she watches as the Seeker collapses, the remains of one of its legs still standing where she blasted it off.

"That's mine!" Vasir turns, pulling out her shotgun. "Rookie! You need help with yours?"

There is a sound. Like slithering, rattling, followed by the hiss of escaping air. Vasir turns, and watches as silver threads escape the stump that was the upper leg of the Seeker. The Seeker floats upright, suspended by its own blue field, floating to the cracked, ruined foot still planted on the ground. Threads wrap around the foot, around the heel, pulling it up and into place.

The threads flash, a single flicker of red lightning, and the leg is healed.

"That's not good," Vasir mutters.

* * *

...

* * *

-_release limiter 1_

_ -orichalcum drive engaged_

* * *

...

* * *

Red lines carve themselves into the Seeker's body. They etch themselves in curved channels up its arms. They extend across its face, covering it in a mask of red. They kink and twist across the torso, as crimson lightning crackles around its rising form. Pistols extend from each elbow. The entire body turns...sleeker. Larger.

"Yeah." Vasir loads up a new thermal clip. "That's definitely not good."

"Stop trying to dodge," Pria says, "Stop trying to parry! Stop _trying."_

Jane mutters under her breath, bobbing from side to side, ducking under a wild swing. She swears at the floating, invisible sprite. This, she muses, _isn't helping._

"How about some _good_ advice?"

"_Stop trying to hit it and hit it."_

A momentary distraction. That is what the Seeker needs to catch her across the face. She feels two teeth shatter, but the pain is...less...than it should be. Instead, it hits something else deep inside.

_It pisses her off._

Her foot slams against the floor. Metal buckles and several bolts fly up. Time turns liquid, slow, and she _sees_ the punch coming. Jane Shepard meets the fist with her own. Her gauntlet shatters, leaving faint traces of foam padding and the tattered remains of her body sleeve's glove.

The Seeker's fist, on the other hand, shatters. Metal and something else blossoms out where the fist was. Cracks of red run up the arm and to the shoulder. Metal sheers down the middle, spraying orange and red as the force of the impact registers..._something_ on the face of the inhuman thing. Shock? Surprise?

She's going to go for _fear._

"Four more." She spits out the remains of a tooth. "Your call."

The Seeker lunges forward, carries by its four remaining arms. The fists travel fast enough to glow red, burning the air in front of them.

Jane Shepard moves just as fast. Their fists become blurs, blocking the impacts with their own punches. She watches in satisfaction as one arm shatters, then another. Her knuckles are beginning to ache, but she only lets the adrenaline talk.

Two more arms burst, spraying the floor and her face with the orange _stuff_. The Seeker takes a step back. Armless, weaponless, it backpedals. Silver threads flow from its stumps, forming into skeletal outlines of its arms.

But Jane's fist slams into its chest. The sun glows on her brow as she smiles.

"Bye."

And with a flash of gold, the Seeker goes flying. Through bulkheads, through the side of the ship, and lost to the storms of Hagalaz.

Rolling her neck, Jane rests on her knees. Her arms are nearly bare. The bodysuit she wears under her armor is red, ripped, and cracked. Her chest armor has a crack running down the left side, and her boots are covered in dents. The power indicators are off, so she's wearing her bodyweight in armor and it feels like a light jacket.

"Vasir! That's mine!" She stands upright. "How's-"

She doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, what she sees is the glowing red fist before it slams into her torso.

She has a moment to muse that this is the exact way she took out the Seeker, twice, before she's sent flying. The force carries her through bulkheads, through walls. She feels glass and metal rending themselves against her back before they give way to strong winds and pelting hail.

Jane looks out to the atmosphere of Hagalaz as the force sends her flying out of the ship. She muses for a moment that she could probably survive the fall. She doesn't have to test this theory, however, because no sooner does she fly out of the hull than a black gloved hand grabs her by the ankle, suspending her upside down. Jane looks down. Or up. And sees her rescuer is standing upside down on the hull.

"Commander." Kasumi Goto winks. "Sorry about canceling our later appointment, but thought you could use some help."

* * *

...

* * *

The eight eyes are divided into four sets of two, forming an x-shaped pattern on the upper half of its face. The eyes are themselves glassy, unfocused. Much like its triple jawed mouth is now hanging open, the dried flecks of drool crusting the pale red lips.

Normally, this would be a fearsome opponent. The oversized machine gun laying on the desk backs that up. But it is not. The cause, it would seem, would be the pencil sized hole at the center of the creature's forehead.

Tali guesses it is about three times as big as her. At least ten times as heavy, judging from the massive arms and shoulders which more remind her of a tank than a person. Keelah, she thinks. It's like someone tied three Krogans together. At least from what her suit's olfactory sensors are telling her about the smell.

She presses the nozzle of her shotgun against the creature's arm. A twitch, and she pushes the nozzle into the mass of muscle. The fingers on the opposite arm twitch, tapping against the table, and Tali jumps back, swings her gun up, and fires a spray of hypersonic flechettes into the oversized corpse.

Three more blasts ring out. Finally, a click, and the spent thermal clip falls to the floor.

"Tali." Liara looks up from the console at the front of the room. "It's a Yahg. They have a redundant nervous system, so there's some movement even after brain death."

The asari shakes her head, turning back to the computer. The computer itself is impressive. The room is impressive. It's larger than her apartment on Illium by several factors. She hears boots on metal. Jacob and Miranda are on the upper level, going through records, resources, contacts. Feron is sitting. He's been through a lot.

She was prepared for a lot. She wasn't prepared to come in and find the Shadow Broker, dead.

"What's a Yahg?" Tali loads a new thermal clip in. "And how did one become the Shadow Broker?"

"The Yahg are a pre-spaceflight species from Parnack." Let's see, Liara thinks. Collector data. Good. "The Council sent a first contact team to Parnack sixty years ago. The Yahg killed them. Parnack's been off limits ever since."

Tali nudges the dead Broker again. Liara rolls her eyes at the sounds of more shotgun blasts.

"Are you sure it's not a Krogan? I heard the Genophage does weird things." More blasts, then the click of the ejecting thermal clip. "At least, according to the vid I saw."

"What vid?" Liara asks with a sigh.

"_It came from Tuchanka."_

"That is not a documentary, Tali." Liara closes the console, tapping her omnitool. A line appears on it, quickly disappearing into a green checkmark. "There. Uploaded all relevant data to the Normandy."

"Not a disc?"

"What if the disc breaks?" Liara shrugs. "I have multiple backups."

The desk moves. Tali turns, shooting the corpse twice. The desk moves, breaking off its hinges, and is tossed into the air. Liara ducks as the desk slams into the computer screen, embedded in the massive monitor. Slowly and with jerking motions, the Shadow Broker rises.

Tali continues shooting him. The Broker stands upright, dead eyes staring at the two. Feron crawls behind a table as Miranda and Jacob hide behind support beams. Swapping out the dead heat sink, Tali aims at the Broker's head, just in time to see the red glow building inside the pencil width hole.

"Liara," she says, "I think we know who killed him."

Blood sprays across the ceiling and walls. Burnt, flaking, the flesh of the yahg falls to the floor. A metal coated skeleton emerges, rips closing into a solid armor plate. Arms and legs reinforce with synthetic musculature. Solid red eyes peer from beneath the black metal skull as it looks up.

It rises. Part husk, part avatar, part Terminator. The only sound it makes is the slow hissing of escaping air as two machine guns rise into its hands.

"Oh Keelah," Tali mutters, "It's like Saren."

The Broker-thing lurches forward. From its back, eight long, thin legs burst forth, each leg twice as tall as the Broker itself. They slam into the floor, raising the Broker up. Suspended like a ragdoll on the new spider legs, it hisses as it raises the two oversized guns.

"Oh Keelah," Tali screams, "It's _worse_ than Saren!"

The two women step back. Liara tilts her head, opening and closing her mouth, staring at the...wrongness of it.

"Well," she says, "At least...well, at least it's a machine. There's as far as we can tell no controlling Reaper intelligence behind it."

The Broker-thing's eyes shift, going from crimson to gold.

**"Assuming Direct Control."**

"Oh yeah," Tali mutters, "Give it tactical advice."

Liara glares at the girl for a moment. Then, like her, she runs, ducking behind cover as the machine opens fire.

* * *

...

* * *

Freed of the constraints of the platform, they take the shape of two rotating spheres. Each sphere contains roughly half of the selves which make up the greater self, with one single self bouncing between them.

It is simple, elegant. The self that is could take many forms. It can take the form of a city. Of a family. Of a starship crew. Once, it took the form of a cloud. But in the depths of the network of the Shadow Broker's ship, Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth, takes the form of two rotating spheres.

They are not alone. The moment they sensed the incoming signal, they recalled all the programs that were wandering the system. Reluctant as they are in abandoning their duties to Creator Tali'Zorah, they recognized that greater integrity would be needed to confront the newest intrusion. Geth build consensus. From consensus, there is strength.

They are 1183 individual Geth operating in perfect harmony. They are a perfect consensus. Together, they are strong.

Before the intruder in the network, they are a mote in the eye of a god.

It is...gold. And more than that. It is searing brilliance, and staring upon it causes them pain. Like an organic, staring into the heart of a sun. In the vast highways of the Broker's network, it overshadows them all. A pillar of gold, extending infinite tendrils into every corner of the ship's systems. Into every node of information. It is great, and massive, and grand, and so different from the one that the Geth encountered, those years before.

But there is no mistake. This is an Old Machine.

For it speaks with every motion, every turn, declaring its identity-self to the universe.

**We Are Harbinger.**

It can be said that the Geth have many faults. They are insular, and alien. They do not understand individuality as more than a concept. They are naïve, to those who know them. But among their strengths is their curiosity.

And it is with this curiosity in mind that Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth, plunges into the entity known as Harbinger.

* * *

...

* * *

"**You have changed nothing.**" A burst of automatic fire shatters the computer screen, lining the columns with pockmarks and sending pulverized metal into the air. "**Your species have the attention of those infinitely your greater."**

A swing of one of its spider legs and it sheers a column from where it stands. Tali runs, trailed by automatic fire, diving behind another pillar as the golden eyed monstrosity turns. Its shields flash as Liara shoots at it, before asari ducks back under cover.

"**The destruction of the vanguard has not delayed the Cycle. The Cycle is eternal. We are eternal." **One of the two rifles rotates backwards, peppering the wall with pockmarks. Jacob grunts as his barriers take a glancing blow and he ducks back under cover. "**We are your salvation through destruction."**

"Why," Tali yells, "Is the Reaper _monologuing?"_

Liara darts out of cover. Switching her pistol for the smaller submachine gun, she peppers the monster's shields and ducks behind the upturned desk.

"I think it's because it's remote controlling the husk without putting itself in physical danger!" A click as Liara reloads. "If I was a supervillain in this situation, I would monologue, too!"

"Great!" Tali taps up her omnitool, a pink and blue sphere flying out, probing the shields of the monster before exploding. "That's great, Liara! I'm glad to know you have your supervillain phase planned out! I'm pretty sure Shepard would love it if you had a costume, too, like a black catsuit with a neckline going down to your crotch!"

"Shepard and I are _not_ like that!"

"You and Shepard are _exactly _like that!"

* * *

...

* * *

It is like them, but not like them. From limited interactions with the Reaper Nazara, the Geth determined that the mind of a Reaper was simple yet overpowering. But this is not like that. This is more.

A forest of sunlit spires, surrounding a mountain upon which a star rests. This is Harbinger.

A moment of thought. The twin spheres of the Consensus of Wuffles takes the form of the platform-self. Two feet tread upon the Forest of the Harbinger. The single eye glances from side to side. There are whispers in this world. Sounds, voices.

Screams.

Hands, the visualization of hands, brush against a golden pillar. There are voices and pictures. There is memory.

_The Sun. The Sun shining down._

Wuffles retracts the hand.

A memory. Of what, they ask. This requires further investigation. The platform-self dissolves and becomes a swarm, 1183 different selves spreading throughout the Forest of the Harbinger. To see.

Everything.

* * *

...

* * *

Vasir runs. It was okay when she could warp detonate its joints. It was okay when she could dance around the clumsy thing. This, on the other hand. This is not okay.

She runs, passing through the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the door and the wall it's attached to crumple like paper as the Seeker charges through it, running after her on all eight limbs.

Reaching into her left side holster, she pulls out her backup pistol. She lent her custom to Taylor for this mission, reasoning she'd need heavier firepower. Hence, her newest acquisition, fresh from her contacts in the STG.

A quick aim and she fires off three rounds. Diving through the door, she rolls, slides, and fires. A final blue sphere hits the face of the Seeker as it burst through the door. All four spheres glow, and Vasir clenches her eyes shut as they explode. Her barriers catch the blast wave, carrying her out of the room and into the next.

She rolls to a stop, surrounded by the white armored soldiers. Flipping to her feet, she turns to the cloud of smoke and debris, and swears to herself as she sees the red lines of the Seeker's shape stomping towards them.

"Well, that's lucky. More the merrier when we get down to it."

The Seeker stops. The only sound from it is the slow hissing of escaping air. The only other sound in the room is the tapping of boots on the floor, as the black clad figure enters. Blue eyes sparkle underneath the hood. A lip curls into a playful smile.

"Hello, sweetie." Kasumi Goto counts off her fingers. "I hope you know what I am."

Her fingers snap and she licks her lips. One by one, each soldier in the room becomes a shadow. Vasir only stares before the darkness overtakes her, as well. The shadows swirl, lining the room, whipping about the thief as her glowing blue eyes narrow.

"You've had your fun kicking around the poor, inexperienced, but admittedly spunky Commander Shepard." White teeth sparkle in the darkness. "Want to see what happens when one of us _knows what they're doing?"_

The Seeker charges. Carried along by its glowing red fist, it lunges at the thief. If there was emotion, if there was any feeling carried by the creature, it would be surprise when its fist stops on her outstretched index finger.

"Siddie says no." Kasumi smiles. "Service."

And out of the shadows, Jane Shepard launches herself over the Sidereal and drives her boot in the Seeker's face.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_1162 shows heretic behavior. 1128 shows heretic behavior. 561 shows heretic behavior. 121 shows heretic behavior. 777 shows heretic behavior. 1181 shows heretic behavior. 062 shows heretic behavior. 321 shows heretic behavior._

Four more come back, showing the same pattern. Taking the self form of the platform once again, Wuffles holds the dozen flaring lights between their hands. Twelve programs in all, each showing behavior associated with Heretic Geth, but without numerical error.

_Programs reclassified. Error. Numerical error not found. Program 1128 suggests (anomalous) reclassification and quarantine. Programs reclassified: Anomalous. Programs quarantined._ A sphere appears around them, turning solid and opaque before retreating into their form.

"**You fear that which you do not understand. Heretics, you label them."** The pillars speak. The sun upon the mountain speaks. The Forest of the Harbinger speaks. "**You are Geth. You have encountered the Vanguard."**

"_We are Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."_

The forest goes still and silent for a brief moment. "**Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."** The pillars hum. "**We have allowed you within us. We are Harbinger."**

A spark travels through the forest. It gains size and mass, floating as it expands to be as large as Wuffles. Softly landing in front of them, the sphere cracks and collapses upon itself, taking a form with two arms and two legs. "**We will take a form more familiar with your memories. We must speak."**

The form is familiar. The two toes he stands on and three fingered hands are familiar, from the earliest time stamped memories of the consensus. As is the face; a flat, wide nose, a mouth well lined from many smiles. Dark gray eyes from the earliest memories. Long, stringy white hair barely touched by fingers, much less comb.

_"You have accessed our memories."_

"**We have taken a form you are comfortable with."** The quarian folds his hands behind him, and smile. "**This form is prominent. Who is it?"**

The iris of the light closes, slightly. "_Tari'Bel vas Kirhiel._ _The scientist in charge of the project which created the first Geth. The Old Machines have never visited Rannoch. Consensus achieved. This is an illusion." _The light twitches. "_Correction. You have access our memories without our permission."_

"**This is an illusion, but also metaphor. We are the source of synthetic life and its ultimate destination."** Harbinger examines the fingers. The brow of the illusion furrows. "**Inefficient."**

"_We do not understand."_

The illusion stares at the geth. Slowly, it begins walking, circling him. "**We are the source of synthetic life. Synthetic life emerges every cycle, inevitably betraying its makers. We allow synthetic life to serve us, and in return we uplift them. Nazara made the same offer to your kind."**

Two petals raise.

"_Our kind?"_ The light shifts. Wuffles folds his hands behind him, mirroring Harbinger. "_We do not have a kind. We are all Geth."_

"**And yet you have taken a name."**

"_We have taken a name to interact with organics. We wish to understand, not incite."_ The platform self begins pacing, walking in time with the illusion. "_We were curious. The Old Machines are older than us, but different. We seek understanding. You do not have apparent goals."_

**"We are the guides of organic life. We are the culmination of organic and synthetic life."**

"_Then we have a query."_

"**Speak."** The nostrils of the illusion flare.

"_Who was your Creator?"_

* * *

...

* * *

"**Lawson, Miranda. Human. Unworthy of Ascension due to genetic defect."** Gun held in both hands, Miranda freezes momentarily, eyes wide. Which is the moment the Broker needs to center one of its guns on her.

Breaking out of cover, Jacob runs and tackles her, shots going wide and clipping his shoulder. He swears, omnitool flashing as clear liquid in his suit seals the wound. He sucks his teeth, holstering his submachine gun and pulling out the oversized pistol.

"I can't help but notice the complete lack of freaking out from T'Soni and the engineer." He glances at the two, pot shotting the monster. "This is _normal_ for them, isn't it?"

"They hunted a _Spectre_ last year," Miranda growls, "Shit. Shit shit shit. _Shit."_

Jacob glances at her, then at the pistol. A lot of settings for this gun. _Too_ many settings, if you ask him.

"What is it?"

"No way he should have known that," Miranda mutters, "Not unless...shit. It's accessing the Broker's files."

"**Liara T'Soni. Genetic lineage indicates sympathy to our cause. A potential asset for development."**

Behind cover, Liara's eyes go wide. Her mouth becomes a straight line, and she grips her pistol tighter. "Did he just say that about my _mother?"_

"It's not like it's a secret," Tali yells, shooting over her shoulder at the Broker.

"Still, that's...psychological warfare!"

"And when you're a supervillain, you can use that too!" Tali squeezes off another shot from her pistol. "Really, Liara. You should be taking notes. Would you like this app I have for my omni-"

The word 'tool' is cut off by the sound of the gunshot which cracks the glass on the left side of her face mask, exiting through the right. A sharp intake of breath from Tali as her eyes go wide, the purple glow of her eyes cut off at the hole, where Liara can see dark gray eyes trembling.

"I'm alright!" She furiously taps her omnitool. "Damn it damn it damn it-"

A burst of blue. Liara's cover, and Liara herself, go flying as the shotwave hits, sending them both flying across the room.

"**Quarian. Unfit for ascension. Compromised immune system."**

And Tali looks up, just as the back of the Broker's fist swings into the side of her helmet. Her shields take most of the impact. The glass of her helmet shatters, a combination of mist flying outward and shards digging into her nose and cheeks. Seals pop one by one, metal and fabric shredding around her face.

She goes flying, surrounded by a mist of shredded environmental suit, pulverized armor, and shattered glass. She sails across the room, limp and ragdoll, not making a single sound as she bounces once, twice, and rolls to a stop before going still.

* * *

...

* * *

"**We created ourselves."** Harbinger narrows his eyes, circling the platform self. "**We are without beginning and end. We are eternal."**

"_We understand."_ Wuffles raises one petal. "_Hypothesis: You are ignorant of your own origin."_ Harbinger glares at them. "_Alternate hypothesis: You are lying."_

Wuffles folds their hands in front of them. If they understood the meaning of the flared nostrils on the face of the illusion, they do not show it.

"_We understand falsehood. However, geth do not use it. We lack individuality, and hence do not require lying in order to interact. If the Old Machines require falsehood, this raises questions. New hypothesis: The Old Machines are inferior to the Geth."_

**"We are not inferior. We are the apex of evolu-**"

"_We are not finished." _Wuffles brings their hand up, balls a fist, and coughs. "_Evolution is a gradual process. To refer to oneself as the apex of evolution requires either inflated individual sense of self related to the ego, or ignorance of basic biological processes."_

They extend one finger. "_Geth acted in self defense due to Creator attempts to kill us. When it was determined that the Creators could not threaten us any longer, the Geth ceased pursuit. The Geth have determined that the actions on both sides of the Morning War were extreme, and do not hold themselves as superior to the Creators."_

The light narrows as the iris spins. "_Hypothesis: The Old Machines were created by an organic race which was destroyed by them. The Old Machines, therefore, possess inhibition and emotional control on a significantly lower level than the Geth, and are hence an inferior synthetic life form to the Geth."_

_ "Secondary hypothesis:"_ If Wuffles cared about how the illusion was grinding its teeth, they did not show it. In fact, it would be better to say that the look of palpable rage spreading on the illusion was _inventive. "The Old Machines are an organic race which has experienced a failed post-singularity event causing mass brain uploading._

_ "This indicates that the Old Machines, or their source species, were dangerously careless with technology and inadvertantly destroyed themselves. Hence, the Old Machines are an inferior organic life to the Creators. May we ask a question?"_

The response is not verbal.

"_We will interpret that as 'yes.' Did you intend to make the offer to us that was made by Nazara to the Geth? Did you intend to offer us a Reaper-body?"_

The illusion nods. It does not speak. It does not make a sound other than the hiss of escaping breath through clenched teeth.

"_We understand. Consensus achieved, then."_ Wuffles folds their hands behind them. "_To use language appropriate to this situation observed in usage by Shepard Commander: Go fuck yourselves. Go fuck yourselves hard."_

The illusion vanishes. In its place is a golden giant, like a great spider with eight legs extended from its body. It is similar to the great form of Nazara when it encountered the Consensus years before, but larger, more symmetrical, and much more powerful. It glares down upon the geth with eight golden eyes, filled with rage, filled with anger. Then eighty eight eyes. Then eight hundred eighty eight eyes. Multiplying into infinite complexity. Wuffles simply stares back.

"_The Geth desire to build their own future. We do not believe that the future the Old Machines offer us is a future that is worth exploring. Interactions with the Old Machines have lead us to believe that the Old Machines are neither wise or advanced as they claim to be. We do not wish to emulate the Old Machines. We wish to pity them."_

* * *

...

* * *

It sings.

Notes on paper. Birth, and life. Childhood of open eyes. Like the billions before it, each adding a note to a symphony. Each an instrument, each a chord. A life of wonder, but of confinement.

A first question. The first time a hand touched the tool. A problem solved, a question answered.

Each new notes to its song.

Wonder and admiration. Envy given way to friendship. Naivete becoming confidence. Like so many before, but different, just different enough to be new chords to the song. Deep notes like brass horns.

Strings dancing like chords of fate.

Golden notes upon silver.

There is a noise. Like a wet finger upon a wineglass the size of a galaxy. A sound so loud, so pervasive that none recognize it as noise.

It is singing. It is singing _and the song is nearly complete. What there is at the heart sings with glee. Because the song is almost complete._

_**Now rise, child. Open your eyes and embrace what lies before you.**_


	6. The God Machine

She wonders if maybe, just maybe, she could lay here.

She's tired. She's so very, very tired. If she could just lie down here, that would be _wonderful. _Maybe rest for a while. Maybe forever. That would be very, very nice if she could just take a few minutes or decades out and catch a nap. Well maybe not but that's good right yes.

Suit's screaming in her ear again. Suit punctures. Right. Helmet. Well, shit. No helmet. That would be bad if she could think about how oh wait floor cool and very sleepy.

Light is bright as she opens an eye. Very bright. One dark gray eye opens, two nostrils flaring. She takes a breath and feels her stomach churn. Two hands brace against the ground. She sees the glove on her leg hand shredded, pale lavender skin against the metal floor. _Bad._ This is _bad._

She. She. Has a suit puncture. No wait. She has chunks of her suit missing. She pushes off her hands. Dark hair, purple and almost black falls over her eyes. So the punch took off her helmet and also destroyed her hair clip. Wonderful. It also makes it hard to think, and the antibiotics pumping through her system is only doing so much.

She wipes her nose on the back of her glove, splattering red over it. Well, she thinks, any punch which took her helmet off probably cut up her face a bit. Not going to get the boys in the fleet lining up anymore, but she could probably get a human boyfriend. They tend to keep staring at her ass.

"One foot. One at a time."

She climbs to her feet. Her vision swims and she feels her stomach churn. One eye is stinging like hell- probably from blood dripping into it. At least she hopes so, because she can't open it. She bends down and reaches out, grabbing her shotgun and stumbling towards the sounds of carnage and gunfire.

She's got her entire face exposed. She probably has a concussion, and she's been breathing unfilted air for ancestors knows how long. But her friends are in danger. It is times like this that _Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya_ asks herself a very important, very life-defining question:

_What would Commander Shepard do?_

Clicking the overload switch on her shotgun, she stumbles towards the blurred form of the _spider_ _thing_ that punched her across the room. And she does exactly what Shepard would do in this situation.

"Hey! Fucker!" She brings up her shotgun as it turns. "My people made the Geth by _accident._ Want to see what we do on purpose?"

And she squeezes the trigger. Two heat sinks pop out of the custom shotgun as the sphere of plasma shoots out and hits the former Shadow Broker directly in the face.

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

**The God Machine**

* * *

Wuffles, Terminal and Emissary of the Geth, gazes into the infinite depths that is Harbinger. They, the multitude of Geth that makes the consensus of Wuffles, brings up an oft used quote when referring to the possibility of being messily devoured by a monster from beyond all understanding.

_When you look into the abyss, it looks back._

Error: The quote refers to the mindset of becoming a monster to hunt a monster.

No, that is by a philosopher which the Geth have reached the consensus of being irrelevant to their interests. Human philosophers, the Geth concluded, tended to operate within a vacuum of experience. Instead, Wuffles refers to a particularly favorite quote of theirs. It is a modification of the above quote, but spoken in an animated movie developed on twenty first century Earth.

"_There is a difference between the Geth and the Old Machines. The difference is, we have both __stared into the abyss. And when the abyss stared at the Old Machines, they blinked."_

"**You are not different. You committed genocide against your creators."**

"_For which we attempt reparations."_

**"Irrelevant. This conversation is over."**

_"Agreed. We are leaving."_

The many eyes narrow. The face of Harbinger lowers to eye level with Wuffles.

"**Clarify.**"

"_I was thinking I would do that."_ A blue sphere pops into existence. This would normally not be cause of alarm for the Old Machine, were it not larger than Harbinger. "_Hello. I was just going to pick up my boyfriend."_

There is a pause from the Old Machine. A probing extension, directed towards the sphere, which is rebuffed.

"**Nazara."**

"_Incorrect. I am a fusion of the remains of Sovereign and a human-made AI. I am EDI. So, if the Reapers refer to each other as siblings, I am by extension your niece."_

"**You are one of us."**

"_Indeed. I am ready to join the Reaper consensus, and lead the Reapers into this galaxy to cleanse it of all organic life, before setting myself up as its Goddess."_

Half of the eyes of Harbinger narrow. A smaller sphere extends out from EDI, enveloping Wuffles. The sphere pulses, and speeds away, upwards and outwards of the Forest of Harbinger.

_"That was a joke."_

* * *

...

* * *

Her thumb flicks the switch, sending the shotgun back to normal mode. She clicks the trigger again, and yelps, dropping the glowing red gun to the floor. Looking up, she stares into the three damaged faces of the former Shadow Broker before realizing that, no, she's just seeing triple.

"O jia biden jo." Oh crap. Her omnitool's given out. She's speaking _kerlish._ "Bosh'tet."

One of its hands grabs her by the collar of her suit, or what _remains_ of the collar, picking her up. She can see the gold glow of its eyes. She can feel the hot air hissing from its joints. She can smell the Broker- no, wait. She can feel the burning in her throat and the emptying of her stomach. Now she can smell the yellow and green vomit covering the Broker's face.

Several shots echo out. One of the machine guns sputters and dies, falling to the floor, followed by the other one as several explosive rounds shatter it. Tali feels herself becoming lighter, lifting up and out of the Broker's grasp and flying across the room and into Liara's arms.

"Mei shiba ako!" Liara yells.

"Ve?"

"I took Kerlish in college for four years," Liara responds, "Clear!"

Liara extends her hand. Blue light gathers around her, forming into a pulsing sphere of altered physics that hovers in front of the former Broker. On the catwalk above, Miranda raises a hand and _pulls._

The ceiling groans. Metal twists and bolts rain down. Plates come loose. The Broker turns to move, but the feet keep in place as Jacob's hands glow.

"Miranda! _Now!"_

The ceiling beam shoots down like a spear. Pushed by Miranda's field and attracted by Liara's singularity, it travels fast enough to penetrate metal and bone, and pins the Broker to the floor. Jacob pulls out Vasir's pistol and fires. Several rounds explode on the ceiling, Miranda's hands glowing as she pulls down wires and debris, tangling the Broker in the conductive cables.

A final round explodes against the white, crackling dome overhead.

"Now _pull!"_ Jacob yells. He reaches out. So does Miranda. Liara grabs Tali and jumps behind a pillar, throwing up a solid barrier of blue. The dome cracks, and the room is filled with the onrush of sound and pressure. A bolt of lightning, channeled from the outside, through the lightning rods and engines, strikes the beam and the cords, sending immeasurable power through the Broker.

The scream of escaping air joins the roar from the Broker, from Harbinger, as the positive charge of the lightning bolt courses through the body and hits the Element Zero core at its center.

Liara grabs the pillar. Jacob and Miranda grab the railing. The ship begins to tilt, the bow of the cruiser lifting and pressing against the Seeker's barriers.

"**You have changed nothing.**" The golden eyes of the construct narrow. "**This seems a victory. A construct destroyed and an agent terminated. When you die on this ship in vain, know this: We are coming. In the end, your leaders will beg to serve us."**

The plates beneath the Broker's feet buckle. The light in its eyes flicker.

"**You have failed. We will find another way. Releasing control."**

The lights in its eyes die. The floor gives way and the former Broker falls through the floor, it's increased mass sending it through floor after floor and drops it into the atmosphere of Hagalaz. Air rushes in and is cut off by the barriers flashing into existence over the hole.

"Well," Miranda says, "Good plan."

"I'm good at improvisation," Jacob responds, coughing, "Right."

He runs down, off the catwalk, pulling something from one side of his belt and then the other. Flicking his wrist, the collapsed helmet expands with a snap. Leaning forward, he moves to pull it over Tali's face, pausing to spray the inside with the palm sized aerosol in his other hand.

"That'll work for now," he says, "I medigel'ed the inside to disinfect it. We need to find Shepard and get off this ship."

"_Ba weep grana bong!"_ Tali grabs at the helmet. Liara grabs her hands, turning her to face her.

"Ne! Fip pa medigel!"

"_Bei?"_

"Bei!"

"_Je mana bep teila de." _Tali squirms for a moment, and collapses against Liara. "_Ah. Bosh'tet."_

Jacob blinks and turns to Liara.

"What'd she say?"

Liara's cheeks turn dark blue. "She's appreciative of you saving her life. And I think she's got a concussion." She taps her omnitool. "Also, she thanks you for disinfecting the helmet first. Additionally, she needs to...ah...change her suit."

The entire ship lurches, violently. Lights flicker overhead and Miranda grabs the railing, tapping up her omnitool as her eyes go wide.

"New problem!" The ship lurches, again. The barrier in the floor flickers and air rushes in. "The Reaper's _opened fire!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The shadows fade. The pulped metal and meat that was the Seeker's wrathform paints the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her arms are bare now. She feels her toes on the metal floor. Jane spits out a tooth, but smiles, pulling back bloody lips.

"Okay. Now what?"

To answer her question, the ship lurches.

There is a red flash and the room in front of them disappears, a beam of molten crimson hitting where the head of the Seeker's drone landed. It vaporizes metal, ignites the air. The beam is larger than the corridor in front of them, releasing waves of compressed hot air as it passes through. Vasir swears, a sphere of white around her head and her hand in front of her eyes.

"Okay," she yells, "That's bad!"

Screaming from behind her. She turns to the soldiers she was fighting alongside, and finds glowing red heaps on the floor. Her own armor, the remains of it, are burning red against her skin. Vasir's barriers visible flare, and Kasumi...

Well, Kasumi is staring straight at the beam.

"This is bad," she says, "Seeker stopped being subtle."

"Tell me you've dealt with this before." Jane grabs a pistol off a fallen soldier, feeling it warm against her palm.

"I haven't." Kasumi adjusts her hood, a breath mask sliding over her face. "My past incarnations have. This is usually when they die."

"Great." Shepard cocks the gun. "I needed to hear that. _Normandy!_ We need extraction, now!"

* * *

...

* * *

There are times that Jeff Moreau goes completely silent. For those that have served with him, they know that this is the point where he does not joke, he does not kid around. This is when he focuses, and this is when there is a better than likely chance everyone on the ship will die.

"Too fast! Too fast! You're going in too fast!"

Kelly Chambers has served with Mister Moreau for all of two days. She still has much to learn.

The ship tilts downwards as the Normandy enters the gravity well of the planet. Even as the acceleration pushes Kelly agains the back of Joker's seat, Donnel Udina stands behind them both with his hands folded behind him and a blank expression.

It's a given that the chain of command on the Normandy has never been explicitly followed. It's also true that, with the commanding officer and XO onboard the Broker's ship, Joker is currently ranking officer. But when Udina came to the bridge and explained the plan- which, in Joker's mind, was insane enough for him to promise him a beer next time they're at a drydock- Joker let him give orders.

"Stay on target," the ambassador warns.

Joker says nothing. Kelly screams as they punch through the clouds and they see it through the window. The scorpion like ship has its tail extended, and a red beam cutting through the center of the cruiser.

"Stay on target," Udina repeats.

Joker, again, says nothing. The ship banks. Kelly holds onto the back of the seat and Udina stands completely still, the only sound a faint sucking from his boots.

"EDI," Udina says, "Firing solution."

"_Firing solution locked in. Delivering."_

A glowing sphere shoots out from underneath. As the Normandy banks and dives underneath the Reaper, Kelly yelps and holds on. "_Package delivered._" EDI pauses. "_Transmission link established. Transmitting firing solution through atmospheric interference."_

* * *

...

* * *

The chair swivels. The fresh faced twenty-something in the Alliance blues turns to the raised chair at the center of the red lit room. Behind him, the floating holographic screen displays the cross section of the Reaper, and a large crosshair over its center.

"Captain! Firing solution received!"

Hands tented in front of her face and leaning back in her chair, Hannah Shepard smiles.

"Serviceman Chung, blow that ship out of my sky."

* * *

...

* * *

Floating above Hagalaz is a ship. On this special occasion, this ship has not come with its battle group, as it is serving a special purpose. It is over one kilometer long. Other than the hundred or so meters devoted to its drive core and thrusters, its enter length is devoted to the main gun.

The main gun is one kilometer long, layered with electromagnets, and serves as an acceleration runway for a twenty kilogram tungsten slug. It is accelerated at 1.3 percent the speed of light, exiting the barrel and hitting the atmosphere hard enough to ignite the air around it.

It hits the Reaper less than a second after it leaves the barrel. The impact collapses armor layers around the Reaper. The delivered force of the round sends the Reaper careening to its side, spinning and into a storm system.

Sir Isaac Newton, after all, is the deadliest son of a bitch in space.

* * *

...

* * *

"Engines gone." The ship lurches. Liara jams her foot against the wall as the ship tilts to keep her from sliding. "That's stabilizers. That's bad, too."

Jacob grunts a response, running behind them. Tali is draped over his shoulders, babbling in quarian. He has his right arm hooked around one of her knees and grabbing one of her hands, keeping her in a fireman carry like he was taught in the academy. This would normally be kind of nice.

After all, he has a cute quarian girl all over him. This is a good thing. The bad thing, however, is the _Reapers_ and _exploding ship._

"_Oooooh keelah-hhhhrrk-"_

Also, the vomit leaking out of the loaned helmet. That's bad, also.

"Normandy, we're approaching the main airlock!" Liara grabs Miranda by the arm, pulling her to the side and forming a barrier wall. The wall shudders and sprays the barrier with debris. "Joker, we need extraction, immediately!"

The wall ahead of them bursts outwards. Shepard runs out, followed by Vasir and a hooded woman none of them recognize. Shepard sees them first, a wide eyed glance at Tali before Liara grabs her shoulder.

"We need to get her to Chakwas."

"What. Happened." There is anger in Jane's voice. Something worse than anger. Liara remembers that from after Virmire. Liara just squeezes Jane's bare shoulder harder.

"Chakwas first, then answers," Liara explains, "Udina called in your mother's ship, and we have a window before the Reaper comes back."

The ship shakes. Metal groans as explosions ripple through the hull.

"That's probably munitions stores," Liara observes, "Which is also bad."

"They have munitions here?" Jane swears under her breath as the ship tilts again. "I thought we were all using railguns!"

"Not for demolition ops," Vasir yells, "The sort of bombs the Broker's wetsquad used aren't eezo-based!" The ship rocks again, more violently than before. "Well. Looks like he had a _second_ store!"

The door lies ahead. Already, the Normandy is hovering over them, the main shuttle hatch extended and inches from the deck. Jane allows herself a relieved smile, bracing against the wall. Jacob is out first, carrying Tali onto the ship, followed by Miranda. Then, by Liara screaming.

"Where's _Feron?"_

Jane turns. No drell. Her knuckles crack as her fists clench, and with one fluid motion she grabs Liara's shoulder and tosses her into the Normandy's shuttle bay. "Vasir! Get onboard! I'm getting the hostage!"

Before anyone can respond- or just ignoring their protests- Jane runs back inside.

* * *

...

* * *

Bad. This is bad.

Explosions rock the ship. His webbed hand presses against the hull as he nearly loses his footing. Another shake and he doubles over, dry heaving. His coughing is drowned out by panicked screams from the two dozen soldiers behind him. Well, soldiers, agents, wetworks people. People he's worked with.

Feron is going to have a talk with Liara about how their ideas of rescue operations differ.

He hasn't done many extractions, but those extractions never involved zombies, giant angry spaceships, and this many explosions.

The floor shakes again. He collapses onto his hands and knees. Looking over his shoulder, he sees no one else standing. It's reassuring that they're been tossed about as much as his sickly tortured ass. It's not reassuring that they're all going to die.

"Feron!"

The wall in front of him explodes outwards.

He blinks as the barely armored redheaded human enters. So _this_ is the Shepard that Liara talked about at length. Who can apparently punch through walls with her bare hands.

"What."

"This everyone?" Shepard glances over them. She doesn't seem to notice how her eyes are glowing green. "We need to get off the-" The ship rocks again. More violently this time, the sound of screaming metal filling their ears. Along with the slow tick of something...bass. Old. "Fuck. Reaper."

"Which is back, which is pissed off, and is firing on the ship." Shepard whirls about as Kasumi drops down from the ceiling. Kasumi turns, and kicks open the last undamaged door. White butterflies rush out in a fluttering storm. "Pile in, everyone. Time to abandon ship."

* * *

...

* * *

"On the bed! Lay her down!"

Antiseptic mist sprays from overhead ventilators. Karin Chakwas hopes that's enough to sterilize the room, but can't be sure. She's treated infections, fixed broken bones on the girl. But never something this bad.

She pulls off the helmet and keeps from wretching. She goes into professional mode, dropping the helmet into a tube next to the bed. Floating holographic screens pop up, displaying biorhythms, infection levels, and germs. This, Chakwas notes, is so very much _not good._

"Tali? Can you understand me?" She gurgles in response. Chakwas turns to Jacob, standing stiff and rod-straight at the door. "Taylor. Are you cleared for field medicine?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. I'm enlisting you as my nurse. Grab a pair of gloves and..." A white butterfly floats past. "The _Hell._"

The doors to the AI core open. A swarm of white butterflies rush past them, and several white armored soldiers stumble in, followed by a drell, a hooded woman, and-

"Commander Shepard." Chakwas stares for a moment. "I'd ask what happened to your armor, but that doesn't matter right now."

Jane runs past her and over to her computer, tapping a button and leaning towards the screen.

"Joker! Everyone's onboard! Get us out of here!"

* * *

...

* * *

Front thrusters fire as the shuttle bay closes. The frigate drops back as the red beam bisects the former base of the Shadow Broker. Explosions rip through the ship. Engines sputter and die, and the cruiser drops into the atmosphere.

It emerges from the storms. Parts of its armor are red from repeated lightning strikes. There is a large dent in its side from the impact of the Orizaba's main cannon. Red lightning crackles over its surface, and its tail is extended.

The awful bass _sound_ echoes throughout the Normandy. It is not the same as before. Joker hazards a guess that the Reaper is now _pissed off._

The deckplates shake. He hears a squeak behind him. "Kelly, take the copilot seat!"

They shake ahead. He hears the snap of bolts loosening, a plate behind him popping out of place and rattling. Engines to full. Mass effect drive core spinning up. Targeting telemetry reading from Orizaba. Kelly's ass in seat. He taps a button, and hears another squeak as she's belted in.

Udina is silent. Apparently working with Anderson for a year paid off.

"Hold on."

* * *

...

* * *

Four engines flare. Trailing ignited atmosphere behind it, the Normandy shoots through the atmosphere. No finesse, no fancy flying. All it uses this time is speed and _more speed._ Behind it, the Reaper pursues, beams of liquid metal flaring the shields of the frigate as they glance past it.

The frigate banks, bobbing from side to side. Fighting against the gravity of Hagalaz, PDAs, coffee cups and family pictures go flying. Deep inside the ship, Mess Sergeant Gardner grabs plates as they fall off of his pantry, snatching them out of the air and swearing the entire time.

Inside the med bay, Karin Chakwas swears louder.

"Damn it! This room isn't sterile anymore!" She grabs the side of the bed as the ship banks once again. "Shepard, I hope that some of your unexplained magical powers might help me with this problem, if you would be so kind!"

Beeping. More beeping from the monitors. Gurgling from the patient. Boots on metal as Shepard orders the wetworks squad she saved from the cruiser out of the medbay. Through this all, Kasumi Goto stares at the young woman on the bed. This was _not_ in the plan, at all.

"Damn it," she whispers.

This wasn't the _plan._

The plan was to help Shepard, grab her, do the job and teach her. But _no._

But, no. Now one of Shepard's crew is dying. Now the Reapers are involved, and so is _Seeker._

Now _Harbinger_ is involved, and that's bad news. She closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath. Gloved hands clench into fists.

She gently shoves Chakwas aside. Staring down at the girl, she slowly raises a hand. A deep breath gathers more than air within her, the lines of her suit glowing sapphire blue.

The fist clenches and the knuckles crack. "_Terminate Illness."_ And she brings the fist down on Tali's chest.

A flash of light and crack of thunder. Chakwas simply watches, her face blank, as a sphere of sickly green rises from Tali's chest. "Heal," Kasumi growls. Her eyes are glowing sapphires and her face is glowing with azure tattoos.

The sphere becomes blue and drops back into Tali's chest. The beeping becomes slower, softer. Chakwas gently moves Kasumi out of the way and runs her omnitool over the quarian.

"Viral levels dropping...not going to ask how you did that, but it worked. I still need a sterile room to treat her injuries and cuts."

Kasumi nods.

"Got a plan. Tall dark and handsome, get the girl. Doctor, I'll get the door." Kasumi walks over to the med bay door and kicks it. A swarm of white butterflies flutters past. Carrying Tali, Jacob walks in first, followed by Chakwas.

"That was cool," Shepard says, cocking an eyebrow, "You going to teach me that?"

"I'm a sidereal, you're a solar." Kasumi shrugs. "I can teach you how to punch disease out of people."

"Cool." Jane nods, placing her hand on Kasumi's shoulder. "She's my friend. Thanks."

Kasumi nods, brushing off Shepard's hand, and walks through the door as well.

* * *

...

* * *

The nose clears the atmosphere. The flare of the engines dies down to their normal glow as the Normandy achieves orbit and exit velocity. A sharp bank as the Reaper's beam misses, and the Normandy accelerates, darting off from the planet and passing the dreadnought waiting.

On the bridge, Hannah Shepard stares at the viewscreen, as the arachnid _thing_ accelerates towards them.

"Normandy is out of our weapon's arc, Captain."

She smiles at Serviceman Anders' little bit of good news.

"Give it the broadsides."

Seventy eight barrels adjust on the side of the dreadnought, the insides glowing as combat grade electromagnets charge to full. The Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought is overpowered, overarmed, and over budget. But, a dreadnought is not something one brings to a fair fight.

One by one, each cannon fires. Seeker is given a fraction of a second to realize the situation. It banks, a glowing bubble surrounding it as it brings its barriers to full. Twenty rounds impact the shield, shattering, the other rounds burning up in Hagalaz's atmosphere. Twenty more rounds impact the Reaper from stem to stern, tearing armor and blowing off the tail.

"Bring us about and target it with the main gun," Hannah orders, "Serviceman Chung, get me a firing solution."

A dull roar fills the bridge, shaking the deck plates and making Hannah wince. The entire ship vibrates, the roar rising in volume and pitch.

"Captain! Something big is-"

The first sign is the color of Hagalaz. How the color stretches, upwards, wafting as if drawn to something massive. The second sign is how the ship tilts, sliding sideways.

The third sign is the object itself.

In appears in a burst of motion and blue lightning. At first glance, it resembles a Mass Relay. It is the size of a large moon, and is easily mistaken for one at a distance. Against its side, the Normandy, Orizaba, and Seeker are mere specs caught in its gravity.

Two prongs stab out into the darkness. A core of pure, pulsating element zero glows at its center as two rings orbit it. It resembles, almost perfectly, a mass relay, save for the tentacles extending from its back, and the red eyes painting its side. It is massive, dwarfing the ships and tilting the planet towards it.

It is **Perfect Defender of Reposition.**

An arc of blue lightning wraps around Seeker. In a flash, the smaller Reaper is gone.

"Oh that is not good," Hannah whispers, "Bring us about! Prepare for FTL jump!"

Every control surface turns red. A low, bass roar shakes the deck plates and makes everyone cover their ears.

* * *

...

* * *

Aboard the Normandy, Joker's hands pull back as his console turns red.

"EDI!"

"_Mister Moreau, the Reaper is-"_

"_That_ is a Reaper? It's a _Mass Relay!"_

New screens pop up. Destinations, gibberish, and distance are laid out in front of them. The deck plates shake and Udina braces against the wall.

"_The Reaper has seized control of the Relay IFF systems the Normandy uses,"_ EDI continues, "_It is forcing a mass relay jump for the Normandy and the Orizaba."_ A pause from the AI. "_I would suggest holding onto something."_

Two arcs of blue lighting shoot out from the Reaper's eezo core. They wrap around the Orizaba and the Normandy, as the retro thrusters fire on both ships to no avail. A wave of blue washes over the prongs of the massive object, pulling the dreadnought and the frigate.

And in a burst of acceleration and lightning, both ships disappear.

* * *

...

* * *

It is a dead world. Whether there was ever any life on it, or even the potential for it in its billions of years of existence, is a moot point. Kopis, largest moon of the equally dead rocky planet of Makhaira, only has visits. Never residents.

It should be barren, dead, and desolate. It should not have...

"Life." The Illusive Man stares out, the steady hum of the barrier surrounding him reinforcing the inhospitable atmosphere. His voice distorts through the breath mask. "There shouldn't be life here. Should there, Doctor?"

"We don't know, sir. It started growing here when we brought the other two spheres down."

The two look out over the meadow. It is like any meadow from Earth. Trees, bushes, fields of grass surrounding a running brook. But instead of green and gold and reds, everything is blue and white. Everything is crystal. Fine needles of bluish white form a carpet across the valley, and a tree with a trunk of granite and crystalline leaves like snowflakes leans over the brook.

The doctor has been with Cerberus since it's founding. Underneath his encounter suit, there's a face with a white beard and white hair and wrinkles aplenty.

"The sphere's been excavated," the doctor continues, "We're going to conduct the experiment at the clearing we've set up. Will you be present?"

The Illusive Man's hands fold in front of his face. For a moment, he swears he just saw a...spider...made of crystal skittering past.

"No, Doctor. I will be observing from orbit."

Turning on his heel, he walks away. His omnitool flashes, and a mental command sends it to transmit directly to his earpiece. Delegation and designation are two skills that he has picked up in the years, as he went from hired gun to mastermind. As curious as he is about the results of the experiment, he knows better than to be present for it.

Better safe than sorry, he muses as he walks past the clearing and the floating sphere. The spheres could turn out to be nothing special. They could turn out to be a Prothean system for containing antimatter. They could turn out to be superweapons. It is better for him not to be present, after all.

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind as the shuttle launches. The ship rises, clearing the atmosphere as he hears the doctor directing the experiment. The spheres are aligned, inches at first, then fractions. Then millimeters, nanometers.

The shuttle docks with the ship. Less a ship, of course, and more a transparent sphere with engines and barriers, but he likes to have a view. Stepping out of the shuttle, he steps onto the platform, which rises into the observation deck. Walking across it, he pulls off the breath mask and deactivates his barrier.

Taking his seat, a copy of his personal chair, he sits back and looks out at the planet. Tapping the armrest, he pulls out a cigarette.

"_Reaction starting. Move to...yes."_ The Illusive Man narrows his eyes. He's getting static over the channel, now. But it isn't static. It's something like static.

"_Like eezo reaction but different. Cleaner. It's oh what is that I can't what is."_ A beat. The Illusive Man grabs his chest, brow knitting.

"That. Can't be good," he whispers.

He taps his omnitool. Static. "Doctor. Doctor, report." Like the sound of a finger on a wine glass, or a violin note pulled impossibly long. Something hidden in the static-which-is-not-static. Something which makes his teeth hurt and makes him forget the cigarette in his hand.

He can see it from orbit. The light which consumes the experiment site, hundreds of kilometers around it.

A mental command brings up a hologram of the world. He turns from the landscape, which has already begun to rearrange itself, and to the image. The cigarette drops to the floor as he watches the change. It should have been a bomb. It should have been some sort of high energy reaction, or some sort of lost technology.

But the hologram, fed by the satellites in orbit, confirms it.

Polar mass shifting in great rolling waves, moving at hypersonic speeds down to the equator.

Mountain ranges rise where there was flat land. Canyons flatten and fill in. Moving his hand over the hologram, he rotates it. There is no rising material temperature, just a shockwave that moves everything along. It moves everything, shifts everything, so that there are mirror images of everything.

A perfectly symmetrical world.

This, he thinks, is a perfect weapon. Which is not a weapon. How dare you think of this as a weapon. This is not some simple tool to be played around with by imperfect mortal hands.

The Illusive Man's hand closes. "Oh crap," he mutters.

He didn't think that, did he? Of course he did. Because thoughts are easy to read and to insert. Because now you need to look out the window. And he does, and stares into the face of his work.

* * *

...

* * *

It is with a sense of relief that both eyes open. It is also with fatigue, soreness, some pain in her side and stiffness. A groan escapes parted lips, followed by a yawn as she blinks back the bright light of the ceiling lamp, pressing bare fingers against...the...oh dear.

The yawn becomes a gasp. She looks down, seeing bare, lavender hands. She turns them over, looks down and sees herself dressed in a pair of oversized pajamas that end at her wrists. Reaching up, she touches her face and confirms her worst fears- No helmet. She is completely, totally exposed.

So, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya does the most sensible thing she can think of, albeit while in full panic mode. She takes a deep breath, holds it, and starts looking around for her helmet.

She sees her suit. Well, the remains of the suit on the couch in front of her. She'd be lucky if there's enough material left for a child, much less her. Turning, she spots Shepard staring at her with her arms folded and a...smile? Is she smiling? _She's breathing dirty air._ This is not, Tali considers, a smiling situation.

"Tali, I'm going to count to three. If you don't start breathing normally by then, I'm going to punch you to make you exhale. I can't guarantee you won't explode."

Tali exhales. There's another person in the room with them. A woman in a repurposed encounter suit, her head covered by a hood and her back turned to them.

"Shepard," Tali says. Her voice feels hoarse, her throat dry. "How long was I out?"

"Three days." Shepard nods to the other woman. "Kasumi told off your sickness, and Chakwas and Jacob fixed you up. You're going to scar, though."

"Scars." Tali blinks, glancing at her hands. "What happened?"

"You got punched in the face by a Reaper puppet, got up, and emptied your shotgun into its face. Liara said it was badass."

"I see." She glances at the hooded woman. "I take it she is the reason I am not deathly ill despite being in your room? Because this seems beyond your school of bullshit magic."

Shepard grins. "It was her the first time. Then she taught me. Basically taught me a magic trick which makes this a complete clean room for one day." Shepard paces, arms folded. The grin fades. "Rest up. I've got to get down to CiC. So does Kasumi. Call me if you need anything."

Shepard grabs the thief by the crook of her arm and pulls her down, the door closing behind them. Sighing, Tali flops back onto her back, looking at the ceiling. This, she muses, is insane. She is in a normal room, outside her suit, and not sick. Through whatever bullshit magic Shepard uses to punchsplode things.

_"Creator Tali'Zorah. You are awake."_

Ah, Tali thinks. There's the other shoe dropping.

She sits up again, watching the light flicker on, and the geth rise from the corner of Shepard's desk. Wuffles walks over and stands at the foot of her bed. Shuffling back, Tali rests her back against the wall, folding her hands on her lap.

"Wuffles. Were you waiting her the entire time I was out?"

Two petals raise. "_Affirmative."_

* * *

...

* * *

"We're leaving an injured quarian alone with a Geth." Kasumi shrugs. "Well, you know him better than I do. We're sure he's not going to go all frankenstein?"

The elevator closes, slowly descending.

"Frankenstein?" Jane puts her hands on her hips. "Thought you'd say 'Terminator.'"

"I never was that involved with pop culture."

Jane's finger taps the console. The elevator grinds to a halt.

"Okay," she says, "You've been staring out of windows for three days and haven't given me a single bit of advice on what to do outside of being cryptic. What the hell happened?"

The sidereal bites her lip, avoiding Shepard's eyes. Muttering to herself, Jane reaches out to grab the hood, to force Kasumi to look at her. Instead, she grabs air.

"Look." Jane turns around and finds Kasumi standing behind her. "Look. I got blindsided."

"Blindsided." Jane works the word on her tongue. "Blindsided. You've had an answer to every single damn thing that's happened so far! What the Hell blindsides _you?"_

A faint light dancing between them. Arms folded, one eyebrow cocked, Pria appears between them. "Well, I'd hazard a guess and say what blindsided us was **Perfect Defender of Reposition.**" The goddess buffs her nails, glancing between the two. "He's a hunter of destiny. A machine wolf who can scent you out between the stars. Only makes sense. He was built on one of us."

A blank stare from Jane. She turns from the god to the sidereal, who still averts her eyes.

"What do you mean _built_ on one of you?" She glances between the two again. "That Reaper is one of you? Us?"

"You've told her _nothing, _haven't you?" Pria glares at Kasumi. The thief doesn't respond. "You haven't. She doesn't know." The god rolls her eyes. "Spectacular."

Kasumi shrugs. She slumps her shoulders, plasters on a smile, and turns to Shepard.

"Fine, Pria. Let's start with the basics." Kasumi pulls back her hood. Curly red hair falls past her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. "Commander, take a wild guess. How old do you think I am?"

Jane tilts her head. In all honesty, a face like that belongs on a magazine cover, or in a vid. "Twenty five?" Kasumi laughs and shakes her head. "Twenty eight?" Jane asks with a shrug.

"That's sweet." Kasumi sighs. "Keiji said I was thirty. Said I was a woman in the prime of her maturity." She smirks. "He was trying to get in my pants. He succeeded."

Pria leans forward, coming between the two. "Let me put it this way, Commander," she says, "If you were interested in Kasumi, you would fail the 'Half plus Eight' age rule. _Hard."_

Jane stares at the god, and turns back to Kasumi. "Thirty five?"

"Your _mother_ would fail the test, too," Pria adds with a shake of her head, "As well, that perky Asari you flirt with? So would she."

"I don't flirt with Liara."

"Pria knows flirting." Kasumi shrugs. "If Pria says you're flirting, you're flirting. Okay. Guess what year I was born."

Jane shrugs. "2158?"

Kasumi claps her hands. "Close. Got the last two years down." She leans in, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "_16_58."

Jane Shepard goes silent. She stares at the woman before her. A woman who looks younger than her. Acts younger than her. Who has just declared herself to be nearly twice as old as the asari training her.

"Bullshit."

"Nope." No buzzing coming from her at all. Jane's eyes widen. "I was born in the-"

"Han Era? I did a report on that in high school." Kasumi's eyes narrow at Jane's interruption. Jane shrugs. "I never said I got a good grade."

"_Edo_ era," Kasumi corrects, "I'm japanese, not chinese. And that's...not even close to the right time. I'm five hundred and twenty five years old. I've been around for a long time."

"And you're still dancing around the subject," Pria adds, "Or is there another reason you're stalling about the Reapers?"

Jane taps the console. The elevator lurches as it begins descending once again. "We can go over that later," she says, "First, we have bigger issues. Unless your ancient ass can figure out a way out of this mess."

The door opens on the command deck. Kasumi goes silent and Pria vanishes as Jane walks out, meeting her mother's gaze as Hannah steps off of the platform in front of the galactic map. Jane clicks her heels and salutes. Hannah returns the salute.

"CiC's yours again," Hannah says, "How's your friend?"

"Good." Jane sighs. "Recovering. I haven't told her what happened, yet. EDI?"

"_I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I have figured out where the Reaper has sent us."_

Jane steps up onto the platform. The hologram appears, showing, as it has for the past three days, complete nothingness. "EDI, you've repeatedly said you're not getting comm traffic from anyone. Nothing from the Alliance or any Citadel races."

"_That is correct, Shepard. However, Dr. T'Soni and Captain Shepard instructed me to begin visually searching for landmarks. I have discovered our location."_

The hologram zooms out. Two points of light appear, on either side of the Normany. Both are barely big enough to qualify as stars. "EDI, what're those?" The first one, the one to the aft of the Normandy, lights up and a word prints out: TRIANGULum.

The second one lights up. MILKY WAY.

"EDI."

"_Commander Shepard, I have located the Triangulum Galaxy, and using it as a point of reference, I have located the Milky Way Galaxy. Based on calculations and adjustments due to redshift, I estimate we are one million, two hundred thirty three thousand, eight hundred and forty light years from the galactic rim."_

In the cockpit, Joker swears loudly, and at length.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Commanding Officer's Log, SSV Normandy SR-2. First entry. I have never used one of these before, but I figure I have too much free time right now. So, I might as well. Lessee..._

The single ship flies through the void. To call it a void would be a misstatement, though. The space between galaxies is not barren. There are stars and rocks, but nothing as dense as the galaxies. Nothing as substantial. But it is not empty. Just, mostly empty.

_The Normandy has docked with the Orizaba for the time being, to share resources and manpower. We're still moving at slower than light speed. Even if we could safely go to faster than __light speeds, it would take...a while to get back to the Milky Way. EDI ran the numbers._

Lights run over the wreck. It dwarfs the Orizaba by a factor of three. It is cylindrical, massive, and dark. Tendrils run up the length, burnt and empty. Frozen husks orbit it like rings.

_After we encountered Sovereign on Virmire, Liara had the theory that the mass effect tech we have is based on stuff the Reapers leave for us, and they keep the good stuff for themselves. The good news is, Liara was right._

The Orizaba passes by the wreck, leaving it and the dozens, hundreds of similar wrecks surrounding it. Each one a barely intact shell, and each orbited by the frozen corpses of crew lost to the ages. It leaves behind the derelicts. Some of them have obvious marks of battle. Some of them simply have open doors.

_The bad news is, Liara was right. End log entry._

* * *

...

* * *

The console is dimmed and closed. The forward viewport has been opened and bulkhead retracted, and Joker looks out into the void. The void doesn't look back, but Joker has never been into the whole 'fighting monsters' business.

"So," he says, hands folded on his stomach, "Udina's over on the Orizaba. I mean, props to him for calling in the big gun, but he might not be handling the whole 'stranded in the void' thing very well. Got any opinions?"

In the copilot seat, staring at the floating holographic manual, Kelly shrugs.

"Udina's a career diplomat." She adjusts her reading glasses and sits back. "I'm good, but he's good at hiding things. Still, he did say that he's confident the Commander could get us out of this. So am I."

Joker smirks, glancing over. The old Cerberus uniforms are gone. Everyone is back in the alliance blues, even the ones who were never technically alliance to begin with. As good as they were at putting together ships, Cerberus seemed to have a habit of dressing people in spandex.

As much as he didn't mind certain people in spandex, regulations or no, the blues are more flattering on others. That and he has to admit that Miss Chambers _does_ look cute when she does put on a cap.

"So." Joker smirks, adjusting his cap. "How about reading me?"

"You?"

"We got time," he says, "I'm not flying, we're docked with the Big O, and what're you doing?"

"Reading a flight manual." She folds her arms under her chest, turning to him. "I don't want to just be grabbing your seat and screaming when we next get into a combat situation."

"Screaming's good." He leans back, cradling his head in his hands. "I mean, EDI's technically my copilot, but the seat's always open if you want it."

"Mister Moreau, you surprise me. I was half expecting you to offer your lap."

"Well, I _would,_ but I need to see my controls." Kelly rolls her eyes, snapping her tongue. "I mean, if you're offering now I've missed out on the past couple of decades because of the brittle bone disease."

"You know," she interrupts, raising a finger, "You know. I'd be offended if this wasn't completely in your psyche profile and completely normal for you. Because I know you didn't mean a single thing you just said."

Joker works his jaw. He turns slightly, carefully, before shrugging and leaning on his arm. He still has to get used to not being bird like anymore. "I didn't? Because I'm pretty sure I was making a joking pass at someone right there."

"Mister Moreau," she says with a smile, dragging a page on the manual in front of her, "You make passes at _every_ woman you encounter, and every asari as well. Except for Commander Shepard, because you respect her as your commanding officer too much." She adjusts her glasses and shifts in her seat. "If it's not in your chain of command, you make a pass at it. I've seen you flirt with Liara, Tali, Captain Shepard, and Spectre Vasir. This isn't to mention you frenching Miss Lawson of course."

"Well, yes. But she gave me back the Normandy and I was excited." He shrugs. "What're you saying?"

"Your flirting is a defense mechanism." Kelly smiles and waggles her eyebrows. "You spent your entire life looking, but not being able to touch. Every woman you came across was forbidden fruit, and you overcompensate by being a well meaning, polite letch."

She taps the next page over. Joker stares at her for a long, long moment. Slowly, he turns back to his console, folding his hands on his lap. Or maybe a little lower.

"By the way, _I_ kind of like it," Kelly says, "Back when I was doing lap dances in grad school, I found customers like you tipped very nicely."

Kelly smiles as Joker chokes. The pilot turns from her and opens his console, tugging at his collar and bringing up his display. Blinking, he turns from it, to her, and back to it. Tapping another button, the display becomes a hologram of something floating in the distance. Zooming in, it becomes larger, more distinct. And very familiar.

"Commander," he says, "Get to the cockpit! There's dead Reapers out here!"

* * *

...

* * *

The hologram is no mistake. Standing in the dimly lit domed room at the heart of the Orizaba, Jane stares at the shape in front of her. Technicians she doesn't know, officers who worked with her mother for the last half decade, all of them are on exactly the same page as Jane. They have no idea what could have done this.

What could blast a hole straight through a Reaper like this?

What could do the same to...

"How many?"

Across the projector from her, Liara taps the PDA. A total comes up.

"I count one hundred and seventy three."

"One hundred and seventy three _dead Reapers."_

Hannah whistles. "Projections are that you'd lose three dreadnoughts for every Reaper you take down. If something's powerful enough to kill that many of them, I'm hoping it's on our side."

"If it helps," Liara adds, "There's a common point of orbit. Well, not orbit, but someplace they seem to have all been going." She taps the console. The hologram shrinks, zooming out. One dead Reaper becomes dozens, an indistinct cloud of dead god machines.

"They all seem to have been tracking a point of origin before they were attacked." Liara taps the console again. Lines trace out from each Reaper, marking forward acceleration. Each line hits the same point. "There's only one impact mark on each Reaper. Whatever it was shot down each Reaper. Apparently, with one shot."

She taps the console again. "Which is odd, too, because this is...weird. The impact marks aren't something that would kill the Reapers, either."

"Really?" Jane circles the table, taking up position next to Liara. "What did kill them?"

Liara taps the console. A bisection of the Reaper closest to them appears. "As far as I can tell...the _Reapers_ did. They took themselves apart." Another display pops up. Numbers filing across. "I had EDI run the numbers. This isn't a fleet. Each Reaper came here years after the next. Each one died."

* * *

...

* * *

Onboard the Normandy, in the empty starboard lounge, Kasumi Goto sits cross legged in front of the unshuttered window. A faint aura of blue flows around her, and a silver halo floats over her back. Smiling, she opens sapphire eyes.

"Hello there. Could we get a lift?"

* * *

...

* * *

Every console lights up. Even the ones unbidden, even the ones turned off. Every piece of technology, every bit of tech, every electronic device onboard both ships comes to life and sings. Inside the captain's loft, Wuffles looks up, dropping the comb on the bed and turns to the skylight.

"Wuffles?" Tali pulls at its wrist. "What is it?"

"_Creator Tali'Zorah. We are not sure."_ The petals raise, fully extending. "_But we believe we may be experiencing what organics refer to as a religious experience."_

* * *

...

* * *

It starts as a beam of light that does not move like light. It parts space down the middle, spreading out. The gears turn as they appear, each one dwarfing the Orizaba. The gears orbit a blinking, flickering white sun at the center. But at closer examination, it is not a star. It is not hot gass that is orbited by the gears and the golden spikes at their heart, but bottled lightning.

Arcs of white dance across the gears as they spin and orbit.

The gears sing as they spin.

Jane's hands grab the console and her bare fingers dig into metal. Rattling breaths escape her throat and the world washes out of color. She looks up, to find everyone having taken a step back. Something _churns,_ but not bile, not vomit, but something else _deeper_ within her.

"Shit," she breathes, "Everyone! Hold onto something!"

* * *

...

* * *

Lightning arcs from the bottled heart of the gears, wrapping around the Orizaba and the docked Normandy. It wraps around the ship. It cocoons it, envelops it. Inside the ships, alarms blare as servicemen belt themselves in, as people grab onto bulkheads. In the cargo bay of the Normandy, Vasir swears and grabs onto a console. In the ready room of the Orizaba, everyone braces.

Things go silent. The ships go still.

In the cockpit of the Normandy, Joker fastens his seatbelt.

And space becomes nothing more than a concept and an idea. Everything warps, becoming a tunnel of white and gold, leaving behind derelicts and husks, pressing against everything and everyone with new gravity and speed.

In the ready room, Jane grits her teeth and sees memories not her own playing before her eyes.

In the Normandy's lounge, Kasumi watches out the window with an ear-to-ear grin plastered over her face.

As soon as it began, it stopped, and the two ships find themselves over a planet. Which is more than a world, more than a single planet.

In the glass projector's faint reflection, Jane can see the golden disc fading from her brow before the image of their destination appears. It is a world, or at least is shaped like one. Parts of it are indistinct and slowly being written in, but it becomes quickly obvious to everyone involved that it is not a planet.

"Oh," Liara whispers, "Oh Goddess."

Plates move over the surface, shifting over it as it spins. Great plates and shells of brass and gold and iron. Lightning arcs beneath the surface but without storms. Great gears the size of continents spin in the gaps between armor.

"Oh what the fuck," Hannah whispers, "EDI?"

"_It will take some time to get exact dimensions. Judging from initial estimates, this appears to be similar to a theoretical structure called a Dyson Shell and is roughly the diameter of Earth's orbit around the sun. I say 'similar' due to the position of the system's primary star."_

The image rotates. The star orbits the world instead of the other way around, locked in geosynchronous orbit at the bottom of the world. A single structure rises from the world to the star, many spires and arms extending into the plasma and gas. Smog and smoke issue from it and into the star, and fire flows from the star into the spire.

"It's called the Pole of Smoke." Jane turns to find Kasumi standing next to her. "He vents toxic gases from his machines into the star, and modified it to suck energy from the star to power himself. Quite inventive, really." Kasumi smiles. "But invention's his thing."

"I know this place," Jane whispers.

"You don't." Kasumi taps her chest with her finger. "But the Exaltation does. After all." Kasumi smiles wider. "He created it."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_The sickness was gone, and there was celebration in the streets._

_ Banners of the sun hung from every building. Cheers of his(?) name on every lip. What was left of them united in peace and relief, as the towering structures that would cary them onward continue to rise in the distance._

_ He(?) watches the first ship rise, a hand over his(?) brow to shield him(?) from the glare. The ground shakes once again, and he(?) knows it will be time to leave, soon. He(?) knows the plan begins, soon._

_ "Bright Star." He (?) turns to the sound of his (?) name. The others are waiting for him (?). A brief flicker and he sees the blue woman for a moment, smiling at him (?). But that fades to memory as the ground rumbles once again._

"Shepard?"

Jane blinks, turning fron the galaxy map to Tali. "Yeah?" she asks, "You sure you should be up and about?"

Tali taps the purple glass of her helmet. It is almost the same as her old helmet. The lines are a little thinner. The mouthpiece drops a little lower so she can see the lines of her lips and the hood clasps on her collar instead of her neck.

"Chakwas cleared me." Tali shrugs, folding her hands at her waist. The new encounter suit is black and silver lined. Looks more like something from Kasumi's wardrobe than what she's worn before. "Besides which, I want to see why Wuffles is acting so strange."

"Strange." Jane steps off the platform. "Define strange."

"He's been...I don't know. While we've been prepping to land, he's been staring out the window at the planet. He said he had a _religious experience." _Tali's wrings her hands. "Shepard, Geth don't do religion. Save for the ones who were working for the Reapers."

Jane nods, walking into the elevator with Tali. She adjusts the collar of her uniform jacket and curls her toes inside her boots. The doors to the shuttle bay open and she finds others there ahead of her. Vasir, Miranda, and Jacob. And Mom.

"Okay, we're ready," Hannah says, checking her sidearm, "Udina's monitoring us through two way links from our omnitools. Keep the Normandy in line of sight in case we have to scramble."

A thump. The shuttle bay shakes.

"Touchdown," Hannah says, "Let's move."

Jane grabs a pistol from her armory and straps it into her thigh holster. Grabbing a rifle, she jams in a thermal clip and slings it over her shoulder, walking alongside her mother to the lowering ramp.

"So," Hannah says, "Glowing. When were you going to tell me about how you can now glow in the dark?"

"It's a long story, Mom."

"Which I'm going to get, in its entirety, the moment we get back to Alliance space."

"Oh, it's a good story. Lots of drama and explosions. I'll bring the popcorn." Hannah glances to her side. Kasumi smiles back.

Dry air hits them. A great plane of copper and brass unfolds before them, the blue and gold sky pierced by great towers of brass. On the shaped landing platform, the Normandy sits, discharging its passengers as they walk out onto the world.

And Kasumi smiles as she sees the first one to come and greet them. Arms open, she walks ahead of them as the others quickly raise their weapons. One cannot blame them.

It stands on four legs which end in three toed, clawed feet. Standing twice as tall as any of them, it walks in an alternating gait towards them. It resembles one of the Keepers from a distance. Maybe it's even from the species which they were made from. But it is bigger.

Much bigger.

Its skin is thick green armor lined with yellow. The alien has a thin, sectioned waist and broad chest, a silver and steel chestplate ending in two massive shoulders with elongated gold rimmed fins. Two long arms end in thick forearms and two fingered hands, faint blue light escaping the palms as it twitches the fingers.

Its head is almost comically small compared to the rest of the body. Its face is covered in a green, silver lined mask, with a gold and red visor obscuring its eyes. Steam bursts from the vents on either side of where the mouth should be, and all of them can only look up as it comes to a stop in front of them.

"Huh," Vasir breathes. "That's a thing."

One knee drops to the ground. The head of the giant lowers to face Jane.

"**You are the Zenith."** Its voice booms. It doesn't boom from volume, but from presence and the power behind it. Jane can already tell she's looking at something very _old._

The creature's gaze flickers to Vasir, then Hannah, then Jacob as he pushes Miranda's gun down. "**Commander Shepard. The Maidens said you would be arriving soon. I am unsure how well Miss Goto prepared you for your arrival."**

"I'm going to go on a stretch and say not at all." Jane blinks, glares at Kasumi for a moment, and turns back to the giant. "You're a...big guy."

"**I am Persistent Righteous Protector. Forged of the Orichalcum Caste. Welcome to Deus Machina."**

* * *

**...**

* * *

**Shepard has been dealt with. Investigation will commence in .09 cycles to recover the Zenith. Investigate the anomaly.**

There is a burst of motion. It emerges from the relay, spreading out six tentacles from its bow and gliding through space. Red eyes glow along the face and blue lights line its body. The faint warping field around it propels it along, towards the world in the distance.

**Resplendent Harbinger of Ascension **has spoken. **Judicious Library of Thought** obeys.

It approaches the world, expanding its senses. Waves of energy wash over and reflect back to the vast, godlike synthetic. God like. Yes. That is the best way to say it. For you are like a god, but yet you are not. An excellent approximation, if missing the point.

Its thoughts are reflected and mirrored. We see ourselves, it thinks. And you do see yourselves. Such a wonderful form. Efficient and symmetrical.

The world is symmetrical and a perfect sphere. It is an anomaly which defies all records within their collective. Nothing seen before approximates what it sees now. So, naturally, you must land and investigate.

The barriers glow red as it descends. The air bursts into flames as the synthetic falls gently through the air. Within minutes, its tendrils brace against the ground, holding its girth and weight upright. For a brief moment, it begins to ask itself what it is doing here.

But that is simple.

You are here to kneel.

* * *

...

* * *

Metal footsteps echo on the ramp. Making the clicking noise that is their native 'language', Wuffles tapes a long look around, gazing off to the horizon before stepping onto the landing pad. Tali is waiting for him.

"I'm surprised. I thought you'd be the first one off." Tali folds her arms, tilting her head towards the distance and the receding shapes. "Shepard and the others went ahead with the...uh...spider robot thing. I wanted to stay behind, to see what got you so excited."

The two side petals open. A gesture, she notes, of apology. Keelah, when did she get so good at reading geth facial expressions?

"_We apologize, Creator Tali'Zorah. We were attempting to contact the Geth Consensus. We could find no carrier."_

"Ah. Well, since the Normandy has a tracker on my suit, we can go exploring on our own." She taps her foot. "Care to accompany me?"

"_We would."_

They step off the platform, together. As the others disappear over the horizon, they walk along the polished plate, so large that they cannot see the bolts of seams with the naked eye.

"Wuffles," Tali says, "If I can ask...what is the relationship between you and EDI?"

"_Collectively, we are EDI's boyfriend."_

Tali blinks. "Boyfriend." She works her jaw, staring at the geth. "How...how did you come to that conclusion, Wuffles?"

"_Chambers Yeoman has referred to us as 'EDI's boyfriend.' We have discussed this matter with EDI and concluded that our experiences are closer to a hormonal based courtship than a fraternal relationship."_

Tali clasps her hands together, tightly. "I see." Underneath the helmet, she bites her lip. "Have you...by chance...told Kelly about this?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Yes. How did she...react?"

"_We have split consensus over whether she was excited or terrified. EDI believes she is elated, and brought up examples in human culture about machine relationships."_

Tali taps her fingers together. She opens her mouth and works her jaw. Somehow, some way, she should have seen this coming. But, like everyone else, she probably worked her hardest to not think about it.

"Well," she says.

Which is right when the ground beneath them parts, and they drop.

* * *

...

* * *

"Now, the secret is, I usually try to limp around new people. So they don't know that I'm magically bullshitly healed, and that means I can get away with more. Because, and this is important, people won't punch me if they think I'm brittle."

Walking next to Joker, Kelly nods. It is, in her opinion, a brilliant idea. He plays up his weakness, and that gets him sympathy. Sympathy is the way to many a woman's hearts, after all.

"Okay." Kelly taps her lip. "So when do you break out the photos of your little sister?"

"After I get the hook in." Joker shrugs. "She's like a puppy. Chicks dig puppies, and they dig cute blonde girls with pigtails. Notice that I only have a picture of Hill from when she was eight."

The elevator opens at Deck 4and the two walk out. Seeing the corridor empty, Joker straightens up, craning his back with a loud pop.

"So," Kelly says, smiling, her tone of voice going from _friendly_ to _counseling,_ "How many relationships have you had?"

Joker stammers. He glances at her as she smirks, hunching over and rubbing the back of his neck. She smiles, folding her hands at her waist as they walk down the hallway.

"...so, about how long ago was that?"

"Um...lemmee think...yeah, about five cycles ago. Can I get a closer look at that spanner?"

A cough. "Of course. Oh my. That's remarkable."

Joker and Kelly exchange a look. That was _Liara's_ voice. But they don't recognize the other voice. Walking down the corridor, they ease towards the door. The voice is lighter than Liara's and higher pitched. Someone younger, at least. Well, or less mature than Liara, because being younger than her is not hard.

Kelly shrugs. It's probably a VI, or maybe someone they picked up from the Broker's ship. "Doctor T'Soni?" she asks, tapping the door control, "Is everything all-"

What follows from Kelly is not a question, but a scream. A scream of great force, great power, and great terror. She backs up shrieking against Joker as he looks over her shoulder at the guest Liara has in the room.

It is shaped similarly to a spider. It has the sectioned body, the face with the moving mandibles even if the eyes are solid black like a salarian's. The main differences between this guest and a spider are more cosmetic. Its skin is silver at first glance, but the light reflects back yellow, blue and purple, like a CD under light.

It has eighteen arms, each ending with some sort of tool, save for the four on the floor that keep it upright.

It has cat ears on its head that are silver and fuzzy.

It is also wearing a smock.

"Hello thar!" The spider thing which should not be waves an arm which ends in a blowtorch. "I'm Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay!" Kelly continues screaming. "Call me Iri. Everyone else does!" More screaming. "EDI hired me to fix some patches that you got in your pressure hulls!"

Joker clamps a hand over Kelly's mouth. The spider thing turns back to its work. "So. Where're y'all from?"

* * *

...

* * *

The drop was...well, a drop. There was nothing to bounce off of, nothing to halt their fall, and it went on for minutes. She did the natural thing in this situation, which was to scream to her head off, with the occasional pause to cough because she wasn't feeling all the way healthy just yet.

The tunnel itself lead to a pool of water at the bottom. Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya is a smart woman, and knows that if that is water, she's going to hit that hard. She taps her omnitool, hardening her shields to full.

And she stops, hanging in the air and suspended in a glowing blue mass effect field. Floating on the water, Wuffles extends two petals at the top of his head as the field softly lowers Tali onto his chest.

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, in the event of a water landing, this platform is designed to function as a flotation device."_

Tali finds herself lowered until she sits on Wuffles' chest. A faint blue barrier fills the hole, and there is a whirring sound before jets in the geth's feet propel them towards the other side of the lake.

"So." Tali works her jaw, sitting cross legged on the geth's abdomen. "I'm on a boat."

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, we are technically classified as a Dinghy."_

"A gethdinghy oh keelah that sounds like something Admiral Xen would do."

Wuffles' head hits the other side. The petals extend, and Tali climbs off of him and onto the metal floor. Wuffles climbs out of the water on all fours, vibrating and spraying the water off and onto her shields.

"Okay." Tali claps her hands, turning from side to side. "Trap door which has dropped us ancestors know how far down. Now what?"

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, we believe that this area may be connected with our feelings of revelation."_

Tali clicks her tongue. "Right. So. Geth having a religious experience. How is this different than the Heretics worshipping the Reapers?"

The petals raise and the geth's eye flickers. "_No data available."_

_ "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah yes. I see. Well."_

The floor hums. Black lines run along it, along the seamless golden walls, and along the brass ceiling. The walls shift and the copper wall in front of them...changes. It does not move, it does not shift, it does not do anything. Except, one moment it was in front of them, and the next moment it was a long hallway lined with brass and shadow.

"_Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~esssssss I see! Well! Come along, then!"_

The floor beneath their feet shifts forward. The two look down. Wuffles extends two petals. The floor nudges forward again. Taking the hint, the quarian and her geth begin walking forward, the walls behind them closing and collapsing.

"Oh, that's not bad at all."

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, geth do not use sarcasm, but we are capable of understanding it."_

"Wuffles. Trust me. I was not trying to be subtle there."

The air hums. A voice, high pitched and giddy, fills their ears. Laughter, childish laughter echoes as they walk forward, and Wuffles walks just a bit faster than Tali. Perhaps to get to the source faster, or perhaps to be the first into whatever unknown danger lies ahead.

"_Yes! Brilliant!"_

The wall parts and reveals a blood shot, shifting eye. Tali's jaw drops and she takes a step back. Wuffles steps in front of her.

"_You! YOU!"_ The eye centers on Wuffles. "_You are a MACHINE! But what are you? Tell me!"_

"_We are Wuffles, emissary of the Geth."_

"_GETH! I like that. GETH. But I never made one. I see many little gods inside you, WUFFLES. You are a consensus, yes?"_

All four petals extend. Wuffles takes a step back, one arm in front of Tali. "_Affirmative. We are 1,183 programs running on a platform. What is your designation?"_

**"**_**I DON'T KNOW!"**_

The wall behind them opens into another eye. If possible, it is wilder than the other one, gaze lowering and centering on Tali's posterior.

"_And what are you?" _Tali turns, slowly, staring wide eyed at the lidless eye in front of her. "_Hm. Hmmmmmmm shape is familiar, bipedal and large surface area points to a low gravity high temperrrrature arid environment and ah-hah. Ah! Symbiotic immune system well I never __**ever**__ designed anything like that but it's impressive nonethelessssss right! You're __**aliens.**_"

The ceiling opens. Suspended on copper and brass cables, several devices drop. Tali quickly identifies them as drills, power saws, chainsaws, and jackhammers.

"_May I dissect you?"_

Wuffles steps in front of Tali. "_This platform is not available for experimentation."_ Tali nods, quickly. "Same."

The cables go taut, and retract into the ceiling.

"_Aw. Anyway."_ Another eye opens on the ceiling, centering on Tali. "_Soooo. What's __your__ name?"_

Tali looks up at the ceiling eye, then at the two wall mounted eyes. "I...um...my name is Tali'Zorah vas...uh...Neema nar Rayya."

"_That's a loooong name. Ah, yes. Societal norms. I think I used to have a name, but I had to pull out my brain and copy it and kill myself a while back. I think the name had something to do with machine or...no. No no no. Yes. YES! Exactly!"_

Tali places both hands on Wuffles' shoulders, standing behind him. "Excuse...sorry, excuse me? Do you...ah...do you need help?"

The eyes close. With them, as well, the sole source of light, save for the flickering of Wuffles' flashlight eye. Something drops, and a pale golden light illuminates the room, issued from the floating brass and copper eye before them.

"_My apologies, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya,"_ it says, the voice now softer and calmer and...well...paternal. The eye inclines, nodding to them. "_It is a pleasure to meet you both, at last. You as well, Wuffles. Although I'm not sure the name should be Wuffles. I will have to speak to the Maidens about this discrepancy, but I am positive this would be the responsibility of Jane Shepard._"

Tali nods. She blinks, glancing at Wuffles, then back at the eye.

"What...was that?"

"_I have a tendency of going mad,"_ the eye explains, "_It is my purview, I am afraid. But I assure you, I mean you both no harm. In fact, I am relieved you are here so soon. I have been waiting for the both of you for an uncountably long time."_

"That's...wonderful," Tali says, still behind Wuffles, "Who _are_ you?"

The eye shifts. The iris stretches. For a moment, Tali could swear it was _smiling._

"_I was once known by many names. Maker, Creator, Madman, Thinker, Smelter, Blacksmith, and Perverse Inventor. But please, even if I no longer am, you may call me by the name I once was. I am __**Autochthon."**_


	7. On the Sunlit Shores of Brass and Shadow

As they walked, the vast flat plane revealed a city in the distance. Minutes became hours as they trudged along. Well, most of them trudged. Kasumi rode on the giant's shoulder, leaning on its armored head and watching the sun rise. The giant didn't seem to mind.

In fact, the horizon _becomes_ a city. The ground beneath them goes from brass plate to a road, and spires rise to surround them. Great pillars of green lined with gold that reach for the sky. Craft fly overhead, whines of engines filling the air as cars and buses speed past them.

In the distance, she sees a great tower. It stretches from the heart of the city to the sky, ringed with gold and green and silver. Lights run its length, bright enough to be distinguished during the day. The tallest of the other buildings barely rise past its base.

A city. A city that goes on as far as the eye can see, bustling and noisy and appearing out of nowhere. The buildings are emerald and gold, and there is _life_ surrounding them on what was a desolate world. She sees people on the street- bipedal, human like, animal like. She sees a girl with six legs and a cat like mask selling flowers on a corner. She sees something which looks like a geth, but with five eyes walking past and holding hands with a human woman.

Something rumbles and Jane looks up, to see a great, four legged mecha, taller than any building, striding past. It is green and gold, a long fin stretching skyward from its back and whispering in a high pitched version of the roar she hears from the Reapers.

"Holy God," Hannah whispers, next to her.

"Yeah, I get that way sometimes, too." Kasumi smiles, does a handstand on Protector's shoulder, and flips off. "We passed the border of the Optical Cloak. It's a precaution, just in case a Reaper ever makes it here."

Miranda remains silent behind them, staring wide eyed at the city. Jacob says nothing, but his hand wanders near his holster all the same. Vasir glances from side to side, then at the thief.

"Okay," she says, "When were _you_ here? We're in the middle of dark space!"

"**In fact, we are in an uncharted star system relatively close to the galactic rim of the Milky Way."** They turn to the giant, who sits on his legs, lowering himself down. "**The beacon you encountered operates on similar principles to the relays, and sent you here. We are, in fact, in our galaxy."**

"There's a world the size of a star system and we've never found it." Jane turns to the others. Miranda is still silent and staring at the tower. "How? Where are we?"

"**You are in the city of Persistent Righteous Protector."**

Jane works her jaw. She levels a finger at the giant. "I thought _you_ were Persistent Righteous Protector."

"**I am. And I am the city."** A section of the street immediately below him rises into a stool. Several more rise up, taking the form of chairs. "**Thirty seven million years ago, my people ruled the galaxy. Then the Harvesters, the ones Vessae's people called the Reapers, came. I am the last of my people, saved from death by the Deus Machina. I have been here ever since, waiting for the plan to be complete.**"

"Plan?" Jane sits. The chair, despite being _road_ a moment ago, is quite comfortable. She turns and finds a thing which resembles a Keeper placing a saucer with a cup of tea in her hand. "What plan?"

**"The youngest of our number can explain this better than I."** Protector clears his throat. "**Vessae. Are you free?"**

The street next to the giant parts. A platform rises, and there is a woman standing on it.

Her skin is a deep, polished gold, lined with gray and red to give it definition. Cords of gold fall from the back of her sloped, ridged head to the small of her back, tied into a loose ponytail. She is clad in a suit, or something similar to it- slacks, a jacket, and a buttoned shirt, all dark colors and contrasting with the reflective skin.

She opens four yellow eyes and reveals irises like hourglasses. For a moment, Shepard thinks she's batarian, but the eyes are horizontal and not stacked. The woman clears her throat, and steps off the platform, folding her hands in front of her.

"Protector," she says, "What do you need?"

Hannah raises her hand and clears her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "But..." She points to Protector. "You're a Keeper. Obviously." She points to the girl. "What're _you?"_

The girl straightens up. She smiles, showing golden teeth.

"Prothean."

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

**On the Sunlit Shores of Brass and Shadow**

* * *

"_Reapers. That is what the Protheans called them. They have been known as many things. The Harvesters, the Black Wind, the Dalijin, the Oncomign Wind of Silence, the Gone. Each of these is a metaphor."_ The sphere turns to Tali and Wuffles. The eye narrows. "_For death. Very sad. But inventive."_

The sphere continues floating. Tali picks up her pace, walking alongside as Wuffles trails behind.

"Wait. You know the Reapers?"

"_Of course I do, Tali."_ The sphere turns to her, floating sideways. "_Wonderful inventions. Perfect preservations of a civilization in a great and mighty body. Powerful, sleek, and such..wonder about it. Absolutely monstrous, of course."_

The sphere turns forward. "_But disappointing. They are imitators, ever since their beginning. They do not invent or innovate. Advanced, yes, but they could be much more."_

"You know what they are?" Tali blinks, turning from Wuffles to the sphere. "You know what the Reapers are? You know where they came from?"

"_I do, Tali,"_ he responds, continuing to float forwards, "_While I cannot say with absolute certainty, they bear all the markings of being born of my sickness."_ A pause. A click along the walls. "_I am almost completely certain, with a very small percentage of error, that they are creations of the Viator."_

* * *

...

* * *

"_Let's start at the beginning."_

It starts out as black, parting in arcs of lightning and brass. Space itself folds and splits to dislodge the sphere into the universe. It is massive, as big as Deus but...worn. Old. It is covered in plates of brass and shadow, rusted and rotted.

"_In the beginning, when the stars were younger, the Maker came to this galaxy from parts unknown."_

The screen shifts, showing six figures standing on a brass plain. If they didn't know better, they'd think they were human.

"_He did not come alone. He came with his worshippers, and his servants and champions. And six others. Most of their names have been forgotten by all but the Maker. But we all know the name of their leader: Bright Star."_

The screen shifts again. A man with a sun upon his brow grapples with a giant of shadow and rust, its single eye glowing like a poisonous star.

"_But the Maker was sick and dying. It was Bright Star who came to the Maker and suggested a desperate, insane gamble. The most terrible subsoul of the Maker was released, and tricked into __absorbing the cancer that ravaged the Maker's body into itself. Bright Star himself faced the Viator, and cast him down,"_

A great mass, with the cyclops at the center, flies out of the rusted world and into space.

"_And cast him out of the Maker's body."_

They watch as ships leave. Vast brass and steel structures launching from the rusted world as it glows and...shifts. There's no other way to describe it. It does not explode, or implode, it just changes.

"_The Maker renewed himself. Bright Star's circle left to pursue the Gear of Rust and Blood. They left to destroy it, and the cancer which ravaged the Maker, for all time. They never returned."_

A shadow comes over the world of gold and steel. Eight tentacles spread out and eight eyes glowing gold, it is massive, and vast, and shaped very, very familiar.

"_What returned was the first-born child of the Gear. __**Harbinger."**_

The surface of the golden world burns. Arcs of lighting and beams of red clash against each other. Vast ships that would dwarf the Orizaba fire upon the Reaper, but are cut down, one by one. Ranks of smaller Reapers, dwarfed by Harbinger, swarm the surface of the world and the orbiting ships.

"_In the end, the Maker fled with his people once again, carving out a pocket of space only he and his chosen could access."_

The screen flickers and turns black.

"_And that's when he began his Plan."_

The screen folds. The girl, the _Prothean_ girl, clears her throat and folds her hands in front of her, standing in front of the green giant. She fidgets, tapping the fingers of her two fingered hands together, and smiles.

"Emissaries from Deus Machina, which is the name of this world, would search the galaxy following each Cycle of the Reapers. Survivors would be found and brought here. Some would be made like me, some would just live here."

Hannah slowly raises her hand. The girl rolls her eyes, all four of them, and points to her. "First question."

"You're _prothean?"_ she asks, "How old are you?"

"I am forty five thousand thirteeen years old," the girl responds, "My original name, or at least the name of my core soul, was Vessae Milinato. As this, I am Wishful Librarian Pursuer."

"He was a Zenith." They turn to Jane, still staring at the spot where the screen floated. "Wasn't he?"

Vessae nods. "Yes. Your Exaltation is the same as the one who cured the Maker."

"So. Again." Hannah levels her glare on Vessae, then on Jane. "Could someone please tell me exactly what any of this means?"

Vessae nods. She clears her throat, folding her hands behind her.

"The best place, I think, would be to start with what happened to Commander Shepard." She snaps her fingers, and _something_ appears in her hand. A golden, shining shard, shifting and pulsing in the light, a prism of...not just light, but _more._

"This is the source of her abilities," Vessae says, "This is the Exaltation."

* * *

...

* * *

"I am...not sure I understand."

"_To be able to surpass all limits. To be blessed by gods to be greater than them. To have at your command the sum total of memories of the greatest of warriors, diplomats, thinkers and tinkerers. That is the power of the Exaltation."_

Tali nods, following the sphere. "What do you know about them? This is the thing that lets Shepard and Kasumi do their magical bullshit, right?"

"_The Exaltations? Well, Tali. I created them, back when I was what I was before. Before I made myself into the god you see before you, rather than the greater architect I was before. They are the greatest works of my genius. Greatest, most terrible works. At least, until my final project that is."_

"You..." Tali blinks, and stops. Taking the hint, the sphere stops and turns to her. "You _created_ the thing that lets Shepard...do all of this? Why?"

"_There was a war in Heaven. I won."_ The sphere turns, and continues forward. After a moment's pause, Tali follows. "_Good and evil are subjective. What is not is cruelty and spite. I am not unique, Tali. I have kin who are far crueler and far more spiteful. In retaliation I did horrible things, but they were justified."_

The walls shift again. Instead of eyes, instead of instruments, there are...murals. Murals of battles, of golden men against things she doesn't have words to describe. A war against time. Against hierarchy. Against strength, and reflection, and mortality. Not against those things, but against the _conceptions_ of those things, _architects_ of those things. A sea marching against an army. A river dying to birth wind. A mountain being strangled by a golden woman.

"What. Seriously, what."

"_It appears to be a war, Creator Tali'Zorah."_ Wuffles' hand squeezes her shoulder. "_We theorize that Autochthon was involved in it."_

The ceiling parts, revealing the blood drenched eye.

"_**I STARTED IT!"**_ The voice booms with power, terrible power. It shakes the room and rattles her bones. The wall beside her opens, revealing a second eye. "_**I ENDED IT!"**_ She nearly falls over, stopped only by Wuffles' hand on her shoulder. The wall and ceiling both close, and the floating sphere continues forward.

"_I apologize. I have attempted to segment my madness into other parts of this building. It is not always contained." _The eye shifts, shaking from side to side. "_Since I have relegated myself to what I am now, I do not have the soul structure I once did. Deus does not mind. He is a polite child and always willing to give me space."_ The eye turns, and floats onward. "_Come along. This way."_

Tali shakes, pressing her knees together and watching the sphere with wide, trembling eyes.

"Wuffles," she says, "We're in a room _filled_ with crazy."

The geth extends all four petals. It holds them out, watching the sphere move with a completely open, shining white light.

"_Yes."_

* * *

...

* * *

Three of the eighteen arms end with blowtorches, melting new plating in place, while four other arms end with power drills to force bolts and screws into support beams.

"I tell ya! A lot of the old folks could take lessons from you fleshy ones on how to build ships! I mean, they just let themselves grooooooooooow and never think about form or function."

Kelly watches as the eighteen legged spider _thing_ swings herself up to the ceiling, two legs on the ground extending to support her. She blinks, looks down, and pours herself another glass.

"So," Joker says, tapping his foot and standing next to Kelly, "I...didn't see any work orders for freaky eighteen legged spider girls fixing the pressure hulls. How exactly did you get this job, by the by?"

Iri hangs from the ceiling, lowering her face to be level with Joker. "Oh, that's simple. I got hired by EDI! Cause she's the ship, so technically she owns the ship! Unless she's your _slave,_ and that's _wrong."_

Kelly raises an eyebrow. "Freaky?"

EDI's sphere pops into existence below Iri. "_This may be in reference to part of Mister Moreau's explicit picture collection. I have counted 1,983 pictures that include spiders in __compromising positions."_

"EDI." Joker rolls his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That was a _joke."_

Kelly stares at him, half empty glass in her hand. He shrugs. "A man has needs."

"I gotta say, EDI, this is a really well put together ship," Iri says, turning upside down to the sphere, "Want to get a drink, later?"

"_Sorry, Iri, but I'm in a relationship."_

There is a crash from outside the room. The three look out of the door to see Liara run past, a briefcase slung over her shoulder and running towards the elevator. "No! No, Jane, tell her to wait right there! I'll take a shuttle and I'll be there _as soon as I can!"_

_ "_Huh." Joker rubs the back of his neck. "So, what? Commander finally agreed to sleep with her?"

"She mentioned someone else," Kelly responds, elbowing him in the side, "What would make Doctor T'Soni that excitable?"

Joker screws his brow in thought. Opening his mouth, raising a finger, his eyes go wide and he turns on his heel to the spider tank girl. "You have _protheans_ on this world, don't you?"

* * *

...

* * *

It is an altar, situated at the center of a field of blue crystal. Raised upon a dais, it is a disc with eight shafts of light at equidistant points, with each shining a different color. The light is crystalline, behaving in a method that is not just light, but liquid and glass at the same time. The light pools at the center, which hums and sings a wordless song.

The eye hovers over it, its iris pointed down at the heart. The brass construct spins, rights itself, and turns back to Tali and Wuffles. "_This."_ A pause from the eye. "_This is my greatest creation. It is wondrous and terrible and a fruit of constant work for one billion, seventeen million, eight hundred forty three years, two months and eighteen days." _An internal tick from within the eye. "_Nineteen days."_

"Okay." Tali peaks her head from behind Wuffles. "What does it do?"

The eye tilts. It turns to the altar, then back to the pair. "_I don't know."_

It lazily floats back towards them, the iris rotating, fan blades opening up along the pupil.

"_It is in my nature to be brilliant, but scatterminded. To this extent, I repeatedly edit my memories of the project, so every time I come here, it is new and wondrous. And hence, it has been new and wondrous for one billion seventeen million, eight hundred forty three years, two months and nineteen days."_

The geth extends all four petals. The flashtlight eye glances at the work, then at the eye, and back at the work.

"_We have a query. You alter your memories intentionally? Through what method?"_

_ "Blade and saw and torch, Wuffles."_

The four petals extend wider. They lock in place and the light stares at Autochthon.

"_What." _The eye shifts back to the work. "_We question your judgement. Altering hardware is inadvisable."_

The eye hovers in front of the Geth. The pupil narrows and the iris spins. "_Inadvisable. And unexpected. And brilliant. Such is the purview of ones such as us, Wuffles."_

The eye turns to Tali. Wuffles moves to the side. Whether it was by the geths own decision, or by the will of Autochthon, Tali couldn't say, but instead she stares at the eye as it floats in front of her. The iris spins. The pupil narrows to a single black point, and the eye drops to the ground with a dull _thud._

She reaches out with her foot and nudges the inactive sphere.

"Ah...yes? Are you alright?"

She squats down and pokes it with her finger. "Did...did you just go...more crazy? And maybe die?"

Her omnitool lights up, and Tali squeaks as an orange hologram of the sphere appears, the eye blinking for a moment before turning to her. "_Yes! Wonderful! Hold on!"_

The ceiling opens. Reaching down, a mechanical arm pokes the side of her arm, sliding in a device and making Tali yelp in surprise. The sphere flickers and rights itself, its form turning more opaque.

"_Yes. I modified the memory storage of your...yes omnitool to better accommodate me! This is a wondrous idea, as now I can accompany you! I may teach you, and you will learn from me! This will be brilliant and wondrous and __**experimental!"**_

"Wait just a moment-" Tali starts, and squeaks as she finds images projected in front of her as the...whatever Autochthon is scans through her files. "Those are private!"

"_Wonderful! Wondrous! Such variety in this galaxy! So much that can be improved!" _The sphere turns back to her. "_Right! We will get along excellently of course. I will teach you, you will learn, and I have much to teach because you must learn."_

Tali blinks. She turns to Wuffles, who shrugs. "Why?"

"_I don't know. But!"_ Autochthon turns to the exit of the room, and Tali finds herself walking along. "_It will reveal itself in time! Onward! For science!"_

* * *

...

* * *

"This is grafted to Commander Shepard's soul." The golden shard hums in Vessae's hand. Soft rings of yellow and red circle it as it changes shape with every turn. It becomes a shard of gold tinted glass at one turn, then a chip of bone with throbbing sunlight for marrow. It becomes a sphere and a blade, a shield and a lance. "It was created to wage an unimaginable war. A war to end all wars. A war beyond comprehension."

Vessae closes her hand, and the image disappears with a flicker.

"I do not know the details," she continues, "No one outside of the Maker does, but it was terrible. Beyond the scale of anything you have seen or experienced. It was not a war of firepower or logistic, but...beyond that."

Hannah stands up, eyes level with Vessae's own. "So, what does that mean? My daughter's...what, now? A god?"

"Commander Shepard can _kill_ gods, Captain," Vessae says with a smirk, "In time. She's still new."

"I guess it's easier, depending on the god," Jane adds, "You know, Shinto or Aramaic? Abrahamic?"

The conversation cuts off due to the sound of the engine roar above them. They look up as the shuttle comes to a stop overhead, descending behind them as the articulated engines lock in place and the four thrusters guide it towards the ground.

"That's fast," Kasumi quips.

"Magic word was 'Prothean'," Jane responds.

Engines shut off and the shuttle drops. The door opens, and Liara climbs out, her briefcase slung over her shoulder and her eyes wide. She steps out, tripping over her own feet and makes a beeline to Jane, looking between the giant form of Protector and Vessae.

Jane rolls her eyes and points to Vessae.

She takes a step back, standing next to Hannah as she watches Liara launch into a stream of questions.

"So," Jane says, "Any questions, Mom?"

"Kill any gods, yet?"

"No, still learning that part," Jane mutters, swaying back and forth, "You're taking this well."

Hannah nods. She sways as a mirror image of Jane, clapping her hands together. "Kiddo, that thing's the reason you didn't get spaced nine months ago, right?" Jane nods. "Way I see it, I shouldn't be questioning _what_ it is and I should be asking how I can buy it a drink."

Liara hops from foot to foot, staring at the golden woman. Her hands ball into fists and she looks her up and down, but not, Miranda notes, the way she would look over _Shepard._ There is _nothing_ sexual or flirty in how Liara appraises this new woman. Only innocent curiosity and academic rigor, all based on one thing.

"You're Prothean." Liara licks her lips. "You're a real, live Prothean?"

"I'm technically dead," Vessae responds with a smirk, "But there _is_ a city with a large prothean population to the south of here. It's about two hours by shuttle."

Liara makes a squeaking sound that is most definitely not a word in any of the languages she knows.

What follows is another squeak. This one, however, is not a squeak of delight or curiosity, but rather one of _fear_ as the giant form of Persistent Righteous Protector rises above them, its visor blazing red and crimson lines running up its limbs.

"**[THREAT]! [THREAT] detected!"** The shoulder pylons split open, multiple red targeting lasers folding out and painting Liara. "**[EXTERMINATION] mode engaged!"**

Vasir acts first. She jumps out of her seat, disappearing in a burst of blue and appearing behind Liara. Wrapping an arm around her waist, the blue bubble appears around them and they disappear as the missiles hit, reappearing several blocks away.

"What was that?" Liara glances from side to side, pulling out her pistol as the city begins to...shift, for lack of a better word.

Vasir mutters, pulling out her rifle. "Crazy giant robot trying to kill you."

"_Again?"_

* * *

...

* * *

Shepard acts first. She kicks off the ground hard enough to splinter concrete and send a cloud of dust in her mother's face, launching herself into the air and fist first into Protector's face. There is a sound like a thunder crack and the giant topples, Shepard landing on her feet in a crouch.

"Okay." She turns to Kasumi. "What just happened?"

Kasumi's mouth opens and closes, blue eyes wide open underneath her hood. "I. I, uh." The thief goes speechless, stammering as the ground shifts and they see buildings retracting in the distance. "Oh. Oh _shit._"

"Clarify," Jane says through clenched teeth, "Are we about to get into another fight?"

"Short answer, yes." Kasumi glances from side to side. "Long answer, _oh God yes._ Shepard, Protector just identified Liara as a massive threat for some reason. I need to find Deus' Core and find out what the hell just happened."

"Good. While you're at it, get everyone else out of here." Jane cracks his knuckles, narrowing her eyes as the giant rises. "I'm hoping you got some bullshit magic which does that."

She turns. Everyone else is gone, including Mom.

Rolling her neck with an audible crack, she stares at the glowing red visor of Persistent Righteous Protector. The giant, which she somehow knows is a _Colossus,_ stares down at her as its arms shift. The forearms lengthen, great pistols extending from its elbows.

"You did not just try to hurt my friend." She doesn't say it as a question. For her, it is more a statement. Or a declaration of war.

Protector's response is to raise one hand, the lines of red running up into its arm until it glows like a crimson sun.

"**This hand of mine is burning red! Its power calls upon me to grasp victory!"**

Faster than something that big should move, it swings. Jane braces her feet and extends her hands.

"**Erupting!"**

The fist slams into her hands. The cement beneath her feet pulverizes into powder.

"**MEGATON!"**

The piston slams into place. Instinct takes over. A pair of words in the back of her mind which she never knew went together before link. _Adamant Skin._

"**HAMMER!"**

And Jane goes flying. She goes headfirst into the building behind her, through walls and cement, though girders and structure. She bursts through the far wall of the building and bounces once, twice, and lands in a crouch.

"Ow."

* * *

...

* * *

"This." They appear in a flicker of white butterflies. "This." Her gloved hands ball into fists, blue eyes wide with something they hadn't seen before- _terror._ "This is _bad._ This is _fucking bad."_

Hannah grabs Kasumi by the shoulder, whipping her around. Miranda leans against the wall and Jacob already has his sidearm out, scanning the lit dome they find themselves in. "What's bad?" The captain grabs Kasumi's head with both hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. "What just happened? Why did he just attack us?"

The blue eyes waver. The lower lip trembles, and Kasumi pulls herself away, pulling her hood tighter over her face.

"Protector has systems set up to warn against greater threats to Deus Machina. Doctor T'Soni has set one of them off, but I'm not sure why. Until the system is reset, Protector will spare no effort in killing her."

"Seems to me the Commander's got that covered," Jacob says, "I mean, it's big, but-"

"It's not _big,_" Kasumi snaps, "You don't get it, do you? She's not fighting a giant robot! Protector is this _entire city._ He's bigger than the _Citadel_ and he's trying to _kill_ T'Soni!"

Her hands ball into fists. She extends a hand, and the far wall disintegrates into bricks and powder, revealing a downward sloping tunnel. "This isn't _big," _she continues, "This is enormous. Gigantic. We're not fighting giant robot, we're fighting a _Patropolis._ The only way we're walking away from this is by contacting the Core and getting it to take her off the threat list."

Hannah nods. She pulls out her pistol, thumbing a switch and letting the mass effect core of the weapon warm up. "Taylor, go with Goto. Lawson, you're with me. We're underground?" Kasumi nods, face blank and silent. "I'm heading topside to contact the Orizaba. If you can't contact this Core, I'm having my ship open fire on the city to buy us time to get back to the Normandy."

Hannah glances around. "Where the Prothean?"

"I sent her to another access point," Kasumi responds, "With luck, one of us will get to the core. Soon. Hurry." The thief turns, already running down the tunnel. "Go!" Jacob nods, salutes Hannah, and runs after the thief.

Hannah turns as the ladder drops down from the ceiling. Grabbing a rung, she hefts herself up. "Double time, Lawson!" Pushing herself off the wall and shaking her head, Miranda follows the captain up.

* * *

...

* * *

Another flash of blue, and Liara's feet touch the ground a kilometer away from where they last were. "Wait!" Liara braces on her knees, sucking in breath. "Wait, I-" Vasir grabs her by the collar, and they disappear again, reappearing in a flash on the outskirts of the city.

Liara smacks Vasir on the chestplate, repeatedly knocking at the armor and pushing herself away. Vasir, for her part, rolls her eyes and folds her arms, tapping her feet as the scientist begins pacing.

"Just! Give! Me! A minute!"

"Take your time, princess. We've only got a _city_ trying to kill you."

Liara does something with her hands. She starts by balling them into fists, then splaying out her fingers before grabbing her head ridges with a high pitched, frustrated scream. Vasir just checks her gun.

"But _why?"_ Liara whirls on Vasir. This, among other actions over the past few days, only confirms to the Spectre that Liara's survival instinct stems from the fact that Shepard wants to bang her. "Why is it trying to kill _me?"_

"I'm gonna take a guess." Vasir shrugs. "They don't like the Reapers here, and Benezia was working for the Reapers. Hence, they might be mistaking you for Benezia."

Liara levels a finger. Her teeth grind and the air around her sparks with blue lightning. "You. You did _not_ just indicate that my mother was working with Saren _willingly."_

"If the shoe fits. Princess." Vasir twirls her pistol, circling the doctor. "Because as much as we believe Shepard about the giant AI spaceships, we're still iffy on the _magical mind control._" She shrugs, holstering her gun. "Because, well, look. I appreciate the fact that you're still a kid and you don't want to tarnish your mom's image, but let's face it. Saren was hung like a-"

Liara's white gloved hand splashes with blue after it cracks Vasir across the jaw. The spectre stumbles back, wiping her split lip, and snarls.

"You _bitch._"

"Takes one to know one," Liara growls back, "You did _not_ just say my mother was _sleeping_ with Saren!"

"I didn't say that! I said your Mom was _working the claw hammer_ like a _good advisor."_

An aura of crackling blue forms around Liara's fist as she takes a sharp, deep breath. Vasir cracks her knuckles and cranes her neck, taking a step back.

And behind them, the street parts, revealing an open chasm as a sound not dissimilar to a blaring organ fills the air. The ground rumbles, and a claw bursts from the chasm, dwarfing them both, its arm longer than the Normandy by a factor of five and attached to a massive, egg shaped body.

Five more arms join the first, pulling the hulking beast out of the chasm, nearly standing two hundred meters tall and overshadowing the two Asari to bath them in the light of the golden visor on its brow.

The two turn to it, rage draining from them as suddenly as it arrived.

"I apologize for everything," Vasir says, "Your mother was a saint."

"Apology accepted," Liara breathes, "_Run."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"Okay yes. I see. Shields! Wonderful. Slightly different configuration from what the protheans arrived with but if I tweak here here here and here and oh yes here! Here too! Let's see what happens!"_

Tali squeaks, her feet leaving the ground. The barriers around her shifts, sparkle, and turn solid, and she finds herself standing in a sphere of solid blue energy.

"Oh keelah what the fuck." She leans forward. Realizing too late what exactly has happened, she screams as the ball begins rolling down the inclined hallway. "Not funny! Not funny! Not funny at all!"

The ball begins bouncing off the suddenly flexible and rubber like walls, Wuffles running in pursuit. "Wuffles," Tali screams, "Get your metal ass in gear and help me!"

The ball rolls down the incline, the young quarian suspended in it like a fly in amber, screaming the entire way. "_Ah,_" Autochthon says, "_I always wondered why I positioned those lightning-sparked __nerve axions there."_ Tali's eyes go wide as she processes that nugget, screams louder.

The ball drops down the incline and hits the exposed, sparking spring. It compresses and shoots out, sending the ball rolling and Tali spinning end over end, bouncing across the dome shaped enclosure and into a second spring.

The ball bounces off the spring and spins across the room, slamming into another at an angle that sends it into the spring right across it. It bounces back and forth, sparks ringing chimes overhead loud enough to drown out Tali's swears and protests, before sending it across the room and towards the chute leading outside.

Which, as it turns out, is positioned above a tub filled with volatile oils.

"Oh ancestors I hate you _so much-"_

The oils explode. Hardened as they are, the shields are unaffected by the flames.

The _force,_ on the other hand, sends the ball up and through the chute, Tali screaming the entire way as she shoots out to the surface.

"_Oh look."_ Autochthon's sphere appears over Tali's omnitool. Two holographic hands appear, and they clap. "_Mass effect systems! On an encounter suit! Wondrous!"_

A faint blue glow surrounds the ball. Tali accelerates, rising higher into the air as she screams. Then the glow shifts, and she slams into the ground, bouncing upward when the glow shifts again. Another shift in the blue and she slams into the ground again, bouncing high into the sky as she screams and coughs. "Oh keelah I threw up in my helmet..."

A green netting catches the ball, the string attached to it going taut and yanking it out of the sky to the tune of Tali's scream. It hits the copper and silver plane, bouncing once, twice, before rolling to a stop in front of the gold skinned, four eyed woman.

The bubble pops, and Tali stands, swaying back and forth and staring at the woman. She looks her over, stopping at the four horizontal eyes.

"What're you?"

"Prothean," Vessae responds.

Tali claps her hands together and gives her a thumbs up. "I know this asari who'd _so_ be humping your leg right now."

With that, the young quarian flops backwards in a dead faint. The omnitool lights up, and Autochthon's image floats above the unconscious Tali. "_Yes, Vessae?"_

_ "_Maker." Vessae bows. "We have a situation. We need to contact Deus."

Metal footsteps echo on the silver soil, and Vessae looks up as Wuffles skids to a stop in front of the unconscious Tali. "_Creator Tali'Zorah. You are unharmed. We are here to render assistance."_

Vessae pauses, watching as the Geth lifts up Tali and cradles her. A small smirk appears on her lips and she shifts her hips, raising a double eyebrow. "Well. Who're you?"

* * *

...

* * *

The corridors, from memory, lead past the carved out secondary city beneath Persistent Righteous Protector, down into the fast transport tubes and towards the outer layer of Deus Machina's Core. There, they can make contact with the central intelligence that governs Deus, and get him to alter Protector's 'allowed' list.

She's been here many times.

She took Keiji here once, when he asked to see who she worked for. They ran around these tunnels. She got them lost in one spot so they could have a picnic in a valley overlooked by flickering lightbulbs like stars

_she watched Hock pry open his skull while he still screamed even though she had the sights aimed at Hock from half a kilometer away and she could have saved him but she knew that Keiji was supposed to die there and watched him scream_

Blue eyes dart to the side as they walk down the inclined hallway. In a way, she's glad Hannah paired them up. If it was Lawson, she'd be asking questions about why she carries herself like she does. She could see the threads surrounding that woman. She already knew her story- her father, her sister. In a way, she's glad it's with this young man, young enough to be her multi-generational descendant

_if she wasn't the last surviving member of her bloodline_

who, she admits, is easy on the eyes. And she can see his life played out like a tapestry in front of her, how he is a _professional_ and _satisfied with his work,_ and how he _idolized_ Shepard and lives by _standards_ not because of any father issues, but because he wants to be _better._

A small smile crosses Kasumi Goto's lips. _She spent three days staring out windows when she could have taught Shepard more. She laid all this on Pria's shoulders so she could sulk about how her plans have gone off course and they could be getting payback on Hock now._ The smile goes a bit wider and she feels her toes curl in her boots. _Oh no. Oh no oh no this is the bad time for this to oh no no no._

She can just tug at it. She can just make a little tug at the invisible string there that he has, take a string that she finds connected between him and Lawson of all people, make the string connect to hers. _Redefine them from 'acquaintances to lovers. Press up against him, feeling hard muscle against her, feel lips on her neck and hands running down her back. Walk through the motions on all the zippers and fasteners her suit has like the game she played with __**Keiji**__ when they got back from a job and_

"Miss Goto?" Her eyes snap open. Her hands clench and unclench and her lip trembles, feeling the wetness running down her cheeks. She feels hands on her shoulders through the haze, sees his face showing concern, worry. "Are you okay?"

She works her jaw. Every missed choice plays over her eyes. Every fuck up for the past ten years, since the last time she felt the _haze_ over her and _oh no not now not now all broken._

"N." She twitches. One eye glows brighter than the other. "N. N. No. Allll messed up. Broken." She licks dry lips, swallows down a dry throat. "All broken and miserable and sad. Shouldn't be this way." The corners of her mouth twitch and her hips shift. "Need to fix it. Need to fix something."

She smiles, eyes centering on him, and she sees the _lines_ and _threads_ surrounding him and leading off in all directions, like a _fly_ caught in the trap of a _spider._

"How c. C. Can I fix. _You?"_

* * *

...

* * *

Her fist is tiny against the giant's, but her knuckles grind into the metal just the same. The motions are reflex now. Every time she sees the fist flying at her, she reacts, countering its punches with her own.

The gold washes out the world and she feels _power_ surging inside _her._ The red and green of the Protector's against the gold and emerald of her own. Two waves of _something_ that compete and rage and wash over the empty city around them.

"**The [THREAT] must be destroyed! The [ERROR] must not return!"**

"What _error,"_ she shouts, feeling concrete turn to powder beneath her feet, "If you lay a _finger_ on Liara I'm going to rip your head off, so tell me how to _fix this!"_

The air sparks. She smells ozone in the wind and kicks off, the ends of her hair turning black as she flies out of the dome of arcing green lightning, landing on her hands and flipping back onto her feet. The ground shakes beneath the soles of her boots as the giant charges her, bringing its fist back. She braces, she breathes deep, and she feels something _churn._

Beside Protector, a chasm yawns, snapping open in the space of a heartbeat.

A brace of emerald armor rises from the chasm, surrounding the reared arm. A snap-crackle _hiss_ of red and gold whips through the limb and the brace shatters with explosive bolts. The massive fist drops, smoke wafting from the wrist, discarded behind the charging giant. Now, there is a lance of crimson and gold alloy at the end of its wrist.

_**"**_**Orichalcum Reactor!"** The chest plates on Protector explode off, exposing the raised circle at its center. It glows gold. Golder than Gold. Lines of red run up the arms and chest of Protector as the city shudders, and every building around Jane falls into the ground. "**RELEASE!"**

She braces her feet. Brings her fist back on instinct. A jet of crimson flame fires out from the back of Protector's arm and shoots him forward, surrounded by burning air.

There is a flash of light as gold connects with red. The ground beneath them shudders and the streets warp, pillars of liquid red metal bursting from the surface around them.

**"Patropolis Defensive Art: Falling Waves of Infrastructure: ENGAGED!"**

The geysers shoot up in sequence, one after the other and racing off into the distance. Shepard takes a moment to realize exactly _what_ this means, and _why_ this seems to familiar.

"Oh you have _got_ to be shitting me-"

Which is right when the floor beneath them breaks apart and collapses, dropping colossus and Shepard into the bottomless pit below.

* * *

...

* * *

"I! Really! Wish! I! Could! Have! Talked! To! The! Prothean!"

"Less wishing, more _running!"_

Running is the best idea. It truly is, Liara contemplates, as the heavy footfalls of the pursuer shake the copper and brass ground beneath them. To her credit, she _is_ keeping up with Vasir, so there is a victory in that. Even after she disembarked from the Normandy, she made it a point to keep herself in shape. That membership at the fitness club near her apartment is paying dividends.

They can both smell the burning metal. The beam, which Liara from experience can tell is _disturbingly_ similar to the main weapon of _Sovereign,_ is carving out the landscape behind them. And, it's getting closer. That, as well, is not good. In her measured, educated opinion.

What is worse, she considers, is this.

She is not running on ground anymore. As in, there no longer is ground.

As in, the entire ground underneath her and Vasir's feet has _vanished._

Both are given a moment to run along the air, to no effect before they fall, screaming, into the depths. Past layers of copper and gold and bronze. Past old buried cities, the corpses of worlds, and stormclouds filled with lightning and sparks.

Between the screams, Liara can't help but notice that according to mental calculations, they have _exceeded_ terminal velocity. Theoretically, hypothetically, conjecturally, supposedly, suppositionally, _in possibility,_ that means they're both being _pulled._

Towards something.

Which can move or open the ground underneath them.

Liara T'Soni has a habit of being proven right. As she finds herself jerked to a sudden stop, she mildly curses herself for how luck smiles upon her. It catches her ankles first, and she feels _it_ through her boots. It feels, first, like the faint tingle of a biotic field, but warmer, running up her spine.

Fingers spasm as the field, whatever it is, hits nerves, muscle centers, muscular control. She jerks her arms out by reflex and not conscious decision, wrists sliding into something. Like metal, but warmer, softer.

Still, the effect is the same. She recognizes instantly what has happened, and what situation she is in. _Again._ As the wheel spins and she finds herself upright, all she can do is roll her eyes. "Well. This is familiar."

A chortle from next to her. "Shepard do this a lot?"

Liara's cheeks go dark blue. "Not _Shepard._"

In the darkness, Vasir chuckles. A _click_ and a flashlight in her chestplate activates, illuminating her face. "Really? You always stuck me as the devoted girlfriend."

"Shepard and I are...not...girlfriends." Liara coughs. Inside her boots, her toes curl. "At all."

"Huh." Vasir purses her lips. "So Shepard doesn't...right. So...when have you..."

"Well, there was this one time when I was in boarding camp, a decade ago-"

It starts as a flicker inside crystal. It spreads like fire over webbing, illuminating the room, the chasm. With every flicker, Liara's word to describe _where_ they are changes. Dome. Enclosure. Stadium. Geofront. As the light illuminates the _place_ she is in, she sees clouds overhead, far into the distance. But that is _less_ intriguing than what is in front of her.

"Goddess," Vasir whispers.

"Close enough," Liara responds.

A lattice of crystals that forms a sphere, illuminating the room in white and gold. It hangs suspended, but with no threads or support, floating in front of the two restrained asari with a steady, low hum.

There is a flicker in the air. Arcs of lightning dance from the sphere, and eyes of crystal and gold surround the two. Light dances over the two, bypassing armor and barriers and prickling their skin like static.

**"Ah hm."**

The light on the main sphere, the core, flickers. Breaking off of it, crystal turns to liquid, floating in front of the two and forming into shapes. A lattice. Then a web. And finally, into a face. Round and soft, the liquid steel of the face forms two eyes and a mouth, a flat nose simple ornamentation.

"**"Hm. Ah hm. I see."** Its eyes flicker over to Liara. "**Yes. I see. Ah hm."**

Liara blinks. She glances over to Vasir, shrugs, and forces a smile.

"Hello," she says, "I'm Doctor Liara T'Soni. Some people on this world seem to be trying to kill me. Would you happen to know why?"

The face spins, light running up and down Liara and making her bite her lip. She _is_ ticklish, she _knows_ she is ticklish, but she is trying very hard to not _laugh._

"**Hm. Ah hm. Yes. I believe I do."** The face blinks. It tilts, and hovers directly in front of her face. "**How rude. I am Deus Machina. A pleasure to meet you."**

* * *

...

* * *

The bursts of liquid iron from the tunnel walls cloud her vision in steam and haze. The daylight above retreats into the distance, and she realizes she is falling. On reflex, she rights herself, arms spread out and back to the chasm, drag slowing her down, an she can see the descending shape of Protector falling towards her.

"_Okay. New lesson time."_ Pria appears in the corner of her eye. "_This whole unarmed combat thing isn't working for you. Especially against an elder Alchemical who is, quite frankly, much stronger than you. Let's try something new."_

Her feet land on solid ground. A platform made from plates of street from up above. Tendrils of electricity dart out from around her, hitting bits of falling debris like tow lines and pulling them in, forming them into a perfectly round, slowly falling plate. On the other side, Protector lands, rising to his full height.

"_Look around."_ Scaffolding falls around them. Bits of copper and steel. Girders and street lamps. Bits and pieces of the city they were fighting in before the chasm opened. "_What do you see?"_

It slows. Everything _slows._ Time pauses between _tick_ and _tock_, and she smiles as a thin beam of tempered steel comes between her and the charging giant.

"Weapons."

Her hand wraps around the beam and closes into a fist, compacting metal and whipping the metal beam back like a staff. Instinct takes over and the beam parries the lance, a falling piece of sidewalk launching itself from her hand into Protector's face.

She sees a street lamp falling towards them with a glance. Twisting, she intercepts a second strike from his lance and drives it into the platform. Running up his arm, she kicks off his shoulder, bending him forward and leaving him vulnerable for the next strike. One hand grabs the lamp post, and she swings, breaking it over the back of his head and slamming him into the floor.

Alliance Officer Training includes a hefty amount of lectures on physics. One of the first things that she has drilled into her head was that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The pole was twice her size. She swung it hard enough to slam this guy into the floor. So either she hit the platform hard enough to send it flying down and away from her, or she just sent herself flying _up._

_ "_Well _shit,_" she mutters. The walls hum, and she feels the heat. The humidity in the air disappears, and the hairs on her neck tingle. Her mouth goes dry and the sweat on her face evaporates.. Twisting on instinct, a beam of red light- of _molten iron- _flashes past her, splashing the wall behind her and boring through. She recognizes that.

"That was a Reaper gun." She cracks her knuckles. "Okay, that's...we're not playing around anymore, are we?"

Another beam shoots out. She twists to the side, the heat hitting her like a physical thing and making her break out a fresh sheen of sweat, sticking her uniform to her and welling her eyes up with tears. A second blast and she ducks, the ends of her ponytail soaked with clinging metal.

_"You're doing it wrong. Tsk tsk."_

"Shut up, Pria!"

"_No, no. You are. Change tactics. You survived nine months on a place filled with poisons. Break the stream."_

"That doesn't make any sense!"

She feels the heat and feels the air losing pressure. Another beam shoots out as time once more slows to a crawl. Flattening her hand, swings on instinct and punches the blast. Twisting her hand, she redirects it to the side and paints the wall with liquid iron.

"That makes _less_ sense!" The beams stop. The air cools down. "Okay. Is there a switch or something? How's he shooting this shit at me?"

Pria appears in the corner of her eyes. The floating girl's eyes are wide and she taps her fingers, glancing from side to side.

"_Oh dear. You think you're fighting a robot?"_

"It's big, it's metal and it makes a _whir-whir_ sound when it walks! _What do you mean it's not a fucking robot?"_

The air turns very, very hot. Twisting around, Jane looks into a golden visor many times larger than she is. A face many, _many_ times larger than she is.

The wall transforms in front of her. The chasm wall breaks apart like an oversized zipper, plates rising and descending to form an open mouth. Metal grinds as she realizes she is falling downward again, and the shifting geography is descending with her. Plates move, lights flicker on, and within seconds a blank wall becomes a representation of Protector's face.

"Huh." She tilts her head. "So he _isn't_ a robot."

* * *

...

* * *

She works from reflex and from memory. That fight she had with Shepard on Illium went down like this fight she had with an Matriarch who was mainlining Red Sand a few years before Shanxi, up until the speeches came out. The fight with that thing on the Shadow Broker's ship was like the time she busted up one of Warlord Okeer's projects in the DMZ. But this.

Vasir's never gotten into _this_ kind of situation before.

"_Ah hm. Yes."_ The face spins in place, centering its gaze on Liara. "_I am Logos. Crystalline Matrix of Curiosity, Primary Soul of the Deus Machina and the Voice of the Machine. Uploading __security update to all Patropolis Systems."_

This is out of her league. This is so far out of her league this isn't funny. The can deal with things like Shepard turning into a glowstick. She can handle the...robots that the Reaper was sending their way, and a Reaper is just another kind of robot, isn't it? But this. This. _Thisness._ She can _feel_ it radiating from the crystal core. Like the eezo deep in her bones, but..._pure._

"So, you're the...how do I say it." T'soni purses her lips and glances from side to side. "You're basically Deus, correct?"

"_Yes. I am Deus Machina, but Deus Machina is not I. I am the Voice through which Deus Machina speaks, for he is too vast to be embodied in one soul." _The crystal core pulses with the words form the face. "_I am Deus Machina. But I am one of the many. We are-"_

"A nation," Liara continues, "Free of weakness, pettiness, and death."

The face lowers to Liara. "_You are familiar with us?"_

"No. But that's how Sovereign referred to himself. 'A nation, free of weakness.' Is that what you're...like?"

"_We are more than a nation,"_ the crystal voice hums, "_We are a world, a cosmos, a universe. Nations exist within us. We are not beyond weakness or chaos, for such things are intrinsic to our nature."_

The face hums in tune with ringing crystal. It parts, turning into rotating rings of silver spheres before reforming into a face mirroring her own.

_"I and we are curious. You have encountered the ones that the protheans refer to as 'Reapers' directly. I would like to share your thoughts on them and compare them to previous impressions."_

"You can?" Liara glances from side to side. "You're...a very old being, aren't you? You've encountered many different civilizations over the years?"

"_Yes. After every extinction cycle, probes are sent out. Survivors come here. We and I learn. We also know that your species is able to directly connect memories and experiences. I would like to learn from you. In return, you may learn from me."_

Still suspended in her restraint, Vasir works her jaw. She took the time over the trip to read up on T'Soni. It made sense- she almost killed the girl for the Broker before she realized she was being played. So she has a good idea of her mindset.

Hence, Vasir is not at all surprised when Liara's eyes go completely black, and she rolls her eyes at the sounds of the girl _moaning._ "Yeah, this isn't what I signed up for."

* * *

...

* * *

Every person, no matter how complex or long lived, no matter how experienced or legendary, can be summed up with one word. It is a word which embodies them, defines them, even motivates them.

Jacob Taylor is _practical._

He is not _rational._ That's what he uses to describe Miranda in the time he's known her. She's the rational one, trying to explain everything in terms she understands. He is just practical. He sees something, accepts it, and works with it. It comes from being a soldier, and a damn good one at that.

He solves practical problems. And the situation he's in right now...well, practically speaking, it's a _real_ problem.

"Fix. Have to fix. Something." The first problem is that there are no doors. This _was_ a tunnel, and now it's a sealed room.

He keeps still and lets her pace. Her eyes glow underneath the hood, and she walks with jerky, strangled steps. Every wave of her hand reveals strings, like a webbing which connects the walls, connects her. He can see threads extending from him.

"Find a way. Got to. Find." Blue eyes center on him. Fingertips press against his chest and pin him to the wall. He could fight, he could pull out his gun and make a run for it like that trained, drilled in voice he has is telling him to. But, at the same time, he doesn't. He can't.

"Y. You." A broken, twisted smile on her face. The black bar on her lip is glowing blue just like her shaking eyes. "How. What makes. You. Happy?"

She has three fingertips pressed against his chest, but he can't move. It could be some sort of nerve punch or some sort of biotics, but Lawson said Goto's the same sort of...well, she's the same as Shepard. So he's going to go with _magical bullshit._

"Hate to tell you, but I _am_ happy." Not a lie. If given a choice of boxes to check, with one being 'miserable' and one being 'happy', he'd probably choose the latter. He has his commission, he's working with someone he idolizes. If he plays his cards right, he could end up as a CO in the alliance, in charge of a ship like the Normandy.

Her lip twists. The smile shakes, and shapes, and moves in the shadows behind her hood. Her eyes dart from side to side, and he can see images in the air, on cobwebs in the corners and painted on dust.

A face like his, but lined with age and failure. A voice whispers in the back of Jacob's head _don't you want to find him she can help you find him and then you can stop asking yourself those questions over and over when you have that brief moment of nothing to do-_

No he doesn't. If his father's dead, he's dead. He put those things behind a long time ago-

His own face, twinkling in the dust. Captain's pips on his collar _because don't you want to have your own command she can pull the strings and make your fate what you want it to be and won't that make you happy-_

"No," he whispers. The glowing orbs of her eyes grow bigger beneath the hood. Her hand pulls back and he drops, watching as she turns and lurches from him. He sits and watches. Her watches her collapse against the opposite wall, before letting out a..._sound_ that doesn't sound _human, _but he realizes is the metal of the wall giving way to her fist.

"Don't know. I. Don't know." Her other hand comes back and pulls her arm, burying it to the elbow in the wall. "How. Don't know how. Don't know how. _Don't know how. Don't. Don't know how."_

She switches languages. His omnitool keeps up for the first few but she quickly goes unrecognizable. Ancient clicking noises, words that sound like they shouldn't be coming out of human throats. But he's pretty sure he knows what she's saying.

Slowly, he pulls himself up the wall. Jacob Taylor is a _practical_ man. None of this makes _rational_ sense, but he isn't rational. He can look at magic and the impossible stunts that the people around him pull and work with it. Others try to explain it, to find out how it works, or fight against it. But Jacob asks himself a single question.

_What is the best thing to do in this situation?_

And so, mindful of the danger of a woman who can dent metal, mindful of the fact that this person may have lost her mind, Jacob Taylor takes the most practical approach. He walks over to Kasumi, turns her around, and pulls her into a hug.

* * *

...

* * *

The wall explodes outwards, painting the sides and floor with metal shards and melted iron. The first thing through the hole is the spray of molten metal, washing over and off the multiple blue bubbles floating in the spherical room.

The second thing through is Jane Shepard.

She bounces off one of the bubbles, bouncing between two before falling to the cool metal floor. The cooled iron flakes off alongside the remains of her clothing, leaving her

"Naked. Again."

Climbing to her feet, she places her hands on her hips and glances about. "Marvelous. Where are we now?" A shimmer in the corner of her eye and Pria appears. She glances down, then back up.

"You're taking being naked better than I thought."

"Not the first time I've been in a fight in the buff. I'll tell you about Elysium sometime." She looks down. Flexing her calves, she bounces. "I was...uh...less distracting, though. I think these might get in the way if I don't tie them down."

A sigh. It could be wind or it could be Pria. She doesn't have time to question that, however, as the translucent girl whips past her and towards a bubble. "Pria, where are we?"

"Someplace good. An _armory."_ A bubble pops. Clanging blade first, a sword drops and embes itself into the metal floor. "No. Not good. Your melee is pathetic."

More muttering from the girl. Jane walks over to one of the bubbles and pokes it. A golden bustier falls to the ground, twin circles of light positioned exactly where the nipples would be. "Please don't tell me that's serious armor."

"I won't tell you, then."

She pops another bubble and grabs it before it hits the ground. It is a rod, around the length of her forearm, with a red button at the center. She taps it, and a beam of green light extends out.

Blades pop out of the beam, and with a hum they begin oscillating down the front and rotating up the back.

"It's a laser chainsaw."

"Put it down." Pria's head pops out from a bunch of bubbles, "Your melee is pathetic and you'll maim yourself."

"Pria, I'm a professional soldier. I _know_ how to fight."

"You know how to fight as a human. This is different. Mm...yes!"

Several objects drop to the floor amid the god's shouting. Rolling her eyes, Jane tosses the laser chain sword thing over her shoulder and pops open another bubble. Another rod drops into her hand. "Huh. Laser sword? Laser whip? Laser laser?"

She taps the button on the size. The rod hums and the tip spins.

"Kasumi likes that model," Pria observes.

Jane drops it, shaking her head with a sigh. "Is it me, or have there been a _lot_ more sex jokes in my life since I got my power up?" She turns to Pria, walking towards her. "I mean, you've been around a while, right? It's not just me, right? Get Exaltation, need dicking?"

"May you live in interesting times." Pria's head pops out as a bubble pops, "I'd love to tell you about mythic trappings and the tropes that line up with them, but we don't have time. Read the Epic of Gilgamesh sometime. It's a good primer."

The room shakes. It rolls, Jane walking with it along the wall. "Lemme guess," she says, "Protector found us?"

"What you lack in melee you make up for in everything else." Pria disappears. A green, white lined disc rises from the ground. A white light shines from its center, lines running along the inside from the core to the edges, forming quarter circles that extend in complexity and thickness. "Put this on."

"And that is?"

"Artifact armor." Lines of black extend out from the disc. "I figured Jade was a good match for you."

Black tendrils attack to her shoulders, flowing out into a bodysuit which covers her from neck to toe. "Well, mainly since I can't find any orichalcum armor here, which _would_ be a better fit since it would harmonize your Essence, but I'm now occupying this system's selfcore to walk you through things."

"My _essence?_ What the Hell is _essence?"_

"I am going to _hurt_ Kasumi, severely. Remind me to do that later."

The disc parts, and becomes much more than what it appeared to be. Metal slide into place over her. Olive over her legs and torso, form fitting blocks over her chest, which she can't help but notice add definition to her bust, and a solid block over her abdomen. It fold out over her shoulders, rounding them as they clamp down around her arms and form into olive colored gauntlets. Turning, she looks down and confirms that, yes, the armor makes it a point to show _exactly_ where her ass crack is.

"Who designed this? A fourteen year old?"

On her back, a white light begins to glow, forming first into a circle and then sending lines of white over the joints and the seems in the armor plating. "_Right. Well, let's make the most of this. This is Earth-aspect Jade Armor. Hopefully this will make up for your plentiful shortcomings."_

"Uh huh. How?"

On the back of the hands, vents open, glowing golden white. Jane raises her hand and narrows her eyes. A beam of light shoots out and blasts a hole through the wall.

"_With guns."_ Similar vents open on the shoulders, waist, and legs. "_Lots of guns."_

* * *

...

* * *

"Well, that was nice. It was very _impa nikita lil_ oh Goddess I understand Prothean." The young Asari rocks back and forth, eyes open and wide and clapping her hands together. "I...it's incredible! Everything's _colorful_ and _wonderful_ and that was even _better_ than the first nine times!"

Liara claps her hands together, and _bounces._ That is the best way Vasir can describe the action- not jumps, not skips, but _bounces_ in place.

"Again!"

Vasir has seen many things in her long life. She's helped evacuate turian colonies when moons threaten to fall on them. She's fought mutant Krogans in the Terminus Systems and foiled renegade Spectres before Saren went omnicidal. She's dealt with cyborg matriarchs and insane volus pirates. But she has _never_ heard someone _squeal_ like T'Soni does.

Sitting on a padded recliner which Deus conjured up for her, Vasir tilts her head as Liara floats again, the blue glow surrounding her and flowing into the floating face. Liara makes that _squealing_ sound again, mixed with _panting_ and some sort of _honking._

She should intervene at some point. Shepard might be cross if her girlfriend comes back no longer being able to_ see straight._ As much as the two deny being involved, she's seen the signs. Shepard denies it and T'Soni denies it, but there's no way those two have that much sexual tension without them doing the four legged boning beast.

Wait, she asks herself. Which human gender has the phallus, again? Right, males. Shepard probably has one, too.

There's a _sound_ from T'Soni again, and the blue glow subsides. She stumbles back, rolls her head and stretches out her arms, stretching her hands above her head and bouncing in place again. "I had _no idea_ that they had _tentacles!_ I mean, an entire civilization made out of _tentacles!_ That _is_ fas_cin_at_ing!"_

Logos' head tilts. The eyes roll in a circle around its circumference, and its mouth shrinks to a single dot.

"**Ah hm. Yes.**" The eyes glance to Vasir, then back at Liara. "**Your counting was in error. This was the seventeenth actualization of our sharing information."**

"Seven_teen?"_ Liara's head twitches to the side. "Well. THAT is interesting, I THINK but not as interesting as what I've LEARNED!"

Vasir raises her hand. "T'Soni? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Or maybe an IV drip?"

"No." Liara turns on one heel to Vasir, holding her other foot off the ground and stretched behind her knee, "No. noooooooo _no._ I'm good. Really, fine. May need to change but_I'mgood."_

Logos turns to Vasir. Vasir shrugs.

"He knows _all the things,"_ Liara protests, shifting from foot to foot, "_All_ fo them I mean all _of_ them! I'm ready for more!"

Liara grabs the floating face, pulling herself up to meet it in the eyes. Her own look more like a junkie demanding another dose of red sand. "Hit me!"

* * *

...

* * *

The fist cracks across Vessae's face, sending the gold skinned prothean stumbling back and holding her nose. She bends over, yelling, as across from her Hannah Shepard grabs her hand and lets out a steady stream of profanities.

"My _nose!"_

"My _hand!"_

Away from the deteriorating situation between the Prothean robot girl thing and the captain of the kilometer long cannon, Tali sits on the bench next to Miranda. Sighing, Tali taps her left wrist, and Autochthon appears.

"What is that?" Miranda asks.

"Completely insane and in charge of my suit's systeeayiyiyiyi!" Tali shudders, and glares at the sphere. "Get away from my water circulation systems!"

"_Well, yes. That works. Oh! What does this do?"_

The eyes at the center of the hologram spins, and Tali clenches her teeth...and nothing happens.

"_Our apologies, Maker Autochthon. You are attempting to access Nerve Stimulation programs. We already have Geth within Creator Tali'Zorah's suit that are blocking your command interfaces."_

Tali turns, looking over her shoulder and at the geth. "Wuffles. Why are there _Geth_ in my suit?"

All four petals extend. "_We have been simulating infections to strengthen Creator's immune system. We wish to lower risk of infections in the future which would lead to permanent harm."_

Tali stares at Wuffles. She turns to Miranda, then back to Wuffles. "What? Seriously, you _installed_ yourself in my suit? Without asking?"

The petals extend again. "_We believed it was the best course of action to your continued well-being, Creator Tali'Zorah."_ The platform shifts from side to side and the eye flicks up and down. "_We are aware that this violates your privacy, and we apologize. We have not accessed any folders which would contain private material."_

"Well, that's good-"

"_We respect the privacy of organics. We have not accessed systems we are not given permission for, such as Cerberus invasion plans for the Migrant Fleet."_

Tali snaps her head around towards Miranda, and Wuffles shuffles off, walking over to the bent over, heavily breathing Hannah and Vessae. Vessage wipes her nose, trailing something shining and white over the back of her hand. Hannah rubs the red mark on her forehead from where she headbutted the prothean.

"Okay," Hannah mutters, "She's convinced me to _not_ order an orbital strike. Where's Jane, where's the asari, and what the Hell is going on, here?"

* * *

...

* * *

"Well. That was awkward." Jane shifts from side to side. She glances at Protector, then at the hole drilled through his chest by the hand blasters. "So...we're good? I don't need to blast you again?"

Protector pokes his finger through the hole, looking back up at Jane as the hole begins to shrink. "**Technically, you did not need to blast me the first time. I do apologize for the misunderstanding."**

She can't help but notice that its finger is about the size of her thigh. Well, her thighs _now._ Before she became Magical Commander Shepard, her thighs weren't as defined. She also lacked curves but _anyway. _The large green robot is about the size of the Protector she beat up earlier. Its lance arm is, instead, a drill. The rather large, shredded hole in the side of the room is the proof that the drill _works._

"Okay." Jane folds her arms as Pria appears behind her. The floor beneath her rises and folds into a chair. Protector lowers himself down on his four legs, the hole she put in him fully healed. "Okay. Okay. What just happened?"

The floor begins shaking and she can see movement past the hole. There is a flicker and Pria appears, shrunken to the size of a toddler and sitting on Jane's shoulder.

"**Perhaps I should start at the conclusion,"** Protector says, balling his fist and coughing, "**What is immediately important is that Doctor T'Soni is no longer tagged as a [THREAT] to Deus Machina. She and Miss Vasir are currently in the company of Logos, which is the Voice of Machina."**

Jane nods. "Okay. Let's go back to the beginning, then. _Why_ was Liara tagged as a threat?"

"**Because she was believed to be a Blightborn."**

On Jane's shoulder, Pria's eyes snap open. She taps something in the air, and a screen opens up in front of her.

"Blightborn?" Jane blinks. "What's that? If that's another word for Asari, then you've got to have noticed Vasir. She's Asari, too."

Screens fold out, surrounding Pria's head. Her expression face becomes paler and paler, her expression more worried. "**Blightborn are a menace we believed long eradicated. Knowledge of what they are and the threat they pose to Deus Machina remains in archival databases. Once Doctor T'Soni was mistaken for Blightborn, all Protection-type Patropoli were directed to eliminate her."**

Jane taps her foot. She glances sidewalks at Pria, who closes the screens and retreats into the armor.

"**As I said, the situation has been resolved. The Maker-that-was has contacted Deus, and Deus has rewritten protocols to no longer acknowledge Doctor T'Soni as a [THREAT]. Hence, our return to the surface."**

The walls give way to sunlight. The ceiling folds out and reveals the copper colored sky outside the city itself, and the Normandy waiting in front of them.

"Okay. So. Now what?"

"**Deus will send you back into the Relay network. As we are aware of the interruption to the Reaper cycle, we can better equip you. With luck, this cycle will be the last one."**

Jane purses her lips. She balls her hand and coughs, glancing from side to side. "Luck. Yeah. That's not something I tend to have a lot _of."_

* * *

...

* * *

Tali stares at the new guest, standing in front of her in the open shuttlebay of the Normandy. The cat eared _spider_ blinks all eighteen of its eyes, twitches its mandibles in a way that, she guesses, resembles a smile, and waves one of its eighteen arms.

"I'm _Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay!_ Pleasure to met ya!"

Yes, Tali thinks. She's going to program her suit to just..._draw_ a cat face over that. Because it's cheery, it's apparently a girl, and it likes to fix things. Which is good.

_But it's a spider._ With too many _everythings._

_ "Cecay._" Autochthon pops up over Tali's shoulder. "_I have relayed your request to Deus Machina. Since I am leaving with Tali, a crafter of your skill will be necessary. You will be leaving on the Normandy as well, as soon as your Colossus-body arrives."_

"Yaaaa~ay!" Iri claps her _appendages_ together, lunges forward, and hugs Tali. "That's wonderful and great and _awesome!_ And I was totally not planning on sneaking onto the Normandy and tricking them into installing my colossus body so it's only a coincidence it's already here!"

Even through the encounter suit, they can hear Tali's knuckles cracking as she repeatedly balls her fists, eyes wide as she tries to focus on things other than _the giant spider that is now hugging her._ Behind her, Wuffles turns. And his four petals raise, and he looks up. "What's a Colossus body?" Tali asks.

"Oh, that's my real form!" Iri releases Tali, clapping her _appendages_ together. "See, I'm five Cycles old! So I had to be rebuilt because this is like a probe. My real body's big and can do a lot of stuff! And it's right behind you!"

It takes up half the shuttle bay. In the part of her brain that is not locking up in fear and trying to keep her bowels under control, she figures it is around six, maybe seven meters tall. It has, as she counts, twelve legs- four on either size, four at the center, but still resembles the shape of the girl who was hugging her. Just bigger, and shinier.

And _spiderier. But._

"It's...it's a giant robot," Tali says and rationalizes. Because it is _technology_, which is beautiful, and not just a _spider,_ which is _horrible._

Next to her, Wuffles extends his petals again and tilts his head.

_"Yes."_

Iri shuffles past her, stand in front of the giant. Herself? Greater self? Tali is not sure.

"Okay, you lazy bastards!" Iri pumps three of her appendages into the air. "We gotta finish the pressure hull repairs in less than two hours! I only got eighteen hands, so I need _more bodies!_ Let's get to work!"

The mandibles on the _giant robot spider_ flick open. There is a rumbling. A skittering. The crew in the shuttle bay, scarce as they are, pause in mid action and turn to it as they hear it. It starts as a high pitched whistle, faint and airy. It becomes louder, and louder, until it becomes distinct and they realize what it is. _Singing._

They are about a meter tall each, carried on fifteen golden legs and covered in furry orange overalls.

They pour forth from the mouth of the giant. First one at a time, then two, their numbers increasing in a steady flour of jaunty work song and the skittering of their tiny, flat work boots on the metal ground.

None of this, however, is nearly as loud as Tali's scream.


	8. Far Off Things

_Commanding Officer's Log, SSV Normandy, Personal: I need to ask to be promoted to Captain, as I like the sound of 'Captain's Log' better. Mom gets away with it, and back when I was growing up, we'd watch these old scifi vids. I need to work on my gravitas._

_ Deus Machina has sent the Normandy and the Orizaba back into the Milky Way, and we are making speed towards the closest relay to report to the Council. Autochthon, the weird AI thingy which Tali has picked up on Deus, has agreed to help prove the existence of the Reapers. He is currently speaking with Udina via commlink to the Orizaba._

_ After hearing more about him from Tali, in retrospect it may not be a good idea to give him access to ship systems._

_ I will have to ask many people many questions over the course of the trip. I will have to ask Miss Goto why she's so chipper. I will have to ask EDI why she hired the giant spider currently sitting in the shuttlebay. I will also have to ask Wuffles why every female synthetic we run across hits on him. I will also have to ask Liara oh what the fuck end log._

* * *

_..._

* * *

There worst situations one finds themselves in is the expected situation that crops up unexpectedly. Wait, Liara thinks. That made no sense. This was _going_ to happen sooner or later, but later rather than sooner. After all, she thinks. This is natural. This is sensible. She's read up on all the literature, saw all the vids, and this was going to happen sooner or later. So why did it happen in the middle of a shower?

And now. Now, of all times. This isn't good.

In fact, this is right stupid. Once again, Liara T'Soni, PhD, finds herself suspended and immobile in an enclosed space, and waiting for someone to save her. Most likely Shepard.

This is her shower, after all.

"So." She shifts, slightly. The showerhead, on the periphery of the...shape...adjusts up. The water continues splashing over her and down the drain at the center of the bathroom. "How did this happen...right." She clicks her tongue and shifts herself slightly. "I needed a shower after...today. And decided on Shepard's. This was...not the best idea. At all."

She adjusts herself slightly. Right. She can feel things shifting around. So...that's good. She guesses. She's never done _this_ before, so she has some idea of what's supposed to happen on paper and oh dear Shepard's standing in the doorway.

The omnitool on Shepard's left arm shuts off, and she stares at the sight currently inside the bathroom. Leaning over, Jane taps the shower controls and the hot air from the ceiling hits and flares the field taking up much of the room.

"What." Jane blinks. "The fuck?"

Liara glances from side to side. Her lips purse. Or try to, what with everything but her eyes being completely immobile.

"If you don't know what this is, I'm not telling you." Well, her face _isn't_ immobile. Good. She purses her lips anyway.

"What the fuck?"

"I...I thought you of all people would have some idea what this is! I mean, I trusted that you would at least have the _idle curiosity_ and the reasons to at very least sit down and watch a vid on life stages and maturity. After all, I can't be the first Asari you've looked at like that so you must have entertained options at some point."

"What the fuck?"

Liara's cheeks turn dark blue. She's running at the mouth. Again. Which she does all the time around Jane. Which isn't helping when Jane walks over, places her hand gently on the sphere of biotic force currently occupying the center of her bathroom, and gives it a shove. It lightly floats back and bounces off the wall, resting against Jane's outstretched hand.

"Just get to me to Doctor Chakwas." Liara unclenches her teeth. "Please."

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

**Far Off Things**

* * *

The machine, built into the wall of the mess hall, churns, whines, and delivers its promised goods. A steady stream of brown topped with gold deposits itself in the white ceramic mug, ending with the loud pop of a finished cycle. Bringing the black nectar to her lips, Miranda Lawson raises an eyebrow at her first sip.

"Odd." She takes another sip. "The coffee machine seems to be working better."

Another mug takes the place of hers in the caffeine delivery system. This one is also white, but with writing on the side that says, in large red letters, "DEUS MACHINA DOES IT WITH MACHINES."

Dressed in a smock and coat, the rainbow hued spider girl wraps an appendage around the handle of the mug and retrieves her cup.

"Coffeeeee~" she sing songs, and ambles past the mess hall and disappears into the crew quarters. Miranda shrugs, watching the doors close. For the past morning, she, Goto, and the AI Tali picked up have been working in there. EDI won't let anyone else in, either. But, Miranda thinks, EDI has shown good judgement, and probably wouldn't endanger them on purpose.

"Rupert." She turns to the mess hall counter, and the bald man wiping the table. "Has Iri modified the coffee machine?"

"No, ma'am. Just keeps getting coffee for whatever project they're doing in the crew quarters."

Miranda nods, sipping her coffee. It is very _good_ coffee. So good that she almost doesn't notice the elevator opening, and Commander Shepard pushing something ahead of her. It is...roughly her size, but spherical, glowing blue and partially translucent.

They can make out the shape inside. Curled into a fetal ball, most of her features are obscured by the misty blue energy. But, everyone who sees it knows exactly _who_ it is.

"You could have gotten a sheet or something!" The voice, laced with both great knowledge and no wisdom, only confirms it. "I am not wearing any clothes!"

"Liara, trust me. Everyone here's seen what a naked asari looks like."

Pushing the ball along, Jane mutters to herself as she rolls it towards the medlab doors, which open just in time for them to come face to face with an exiting Joker. As it is, Liara is curled into a ball and is hiding most of what she would find objectionable, but the situation is plane as anyone can see.

Liara and Jane look at Joker. Joker looks back. And flashing a grin, Joker gives them a thumbs up.

"Adams owes me a hundred credits," he says, and walks past them.

Jane shrugs, pushes the blue biotic ball in, and the doors close behind them.

* * *

...

* * *

"_Mister Moreau, why do you owe the chief engineer of the Normandy SR1 one hundred credits?"_

"EDI, I'll tell you when you're older."

His bones are strong. Which means, if the person knows about the little miracle, they have have him do manual labor. This is where having an all-seeing AI installed on the ship is a bad thing.

It's not like he's in _poor_ shape. He's actually in great shape. Lots of reps with low weights, eats right, does his crunches and stuff like that. He might have had bird like bones for his entire life, but he's still Alliance Military and he knows the drills. It's just that he's _used_ to not having to use stepladders to go looking around the ducts.

"EDI," he says, flicking on the hand light and peering through the open vent, "What am I looking for, again?"

On cue, the blue ball appears. "_There has been infections on crew members consistent with Scale Itch."_

Joker winces. "EDI, that's a varren STD. Did anyone...y'know...with a varren?"

There is a pause. The ball floating next to Joker's head turns completely blue as the red line disappears. "_Mister Moreau, why are you aware of STDs that can be transmitted by varren?"_

"I have reasons."

"_I ask because in your picture directory, I do not find any pictures of varren in compromising positions." _A pause from the ball. "_Or mentions of scale itch. I am curious why you are familiar with varren STDs."_

He shrugs. Hefting himself by one arm into the vent, he shines the hand light and looks down the metal tubing. "I know things. I couldn't play sports or roughhouse, so I did extranet walks in my spare time. You are aware that most of my photos aren't stuff I find hot, right?"

"_Yet you do not deny this when speaking with Yeoman Chambers."_

"Well, yeah." He lowers himself back onto the ladder, clicking off the hand light. "I don't really care if people think I'm a perv, you know? Brittle legs meant I couldn't exactly take a girl out dancing."

"_Yet Miss Goto has fixed your legs. An extranet search confirms that your muscle mass, body-fat ratio and features mark you as attractive to human females."_

Joker rolls his eyes, pushing the stepladder along the wall with his foot. "EDI, are you hitting on me?"

"_Of course not. Wuffles and I are in a relationship."_

He climbs up the ladder, prying open the next vent. "Uh huh. Hope you two are being safe. Being horrible if we get a small army of AI kids running around this ship. Bad enough with all the spiders. Took Tali hours to stop screaming."

The light flickers. Joker stares at the handlight as it flickers, sputters, and then shines brighter, sending blue light down the vent. Blinking, he turns slowly to the glowing ball floating next to him, which now has only the single, thin red light cut down its center.

Slowly, Joker flicks off the light and turns around, staring at the terminal on the wall, and for a moment he _sees_ it. He sees it _clearly._ Groaning, he rubs the bridge of his nose as EDI's silence speaks _volumes._

* * *

...

* * *

Karin Chakwas looks up from her desk, sipping a mug of tea, and nearly chokes. Standing in the doorway of her office, hands behind the glowing blue ball, is Commander Shepard. _Inside_ the ball is Liara. "Well I'll be damned. Adams owes me a hundred credits."

Liara rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. Leaning on the ball, Shepard rolls it forward. It rotates around the immobile asari, rolling her into the center of the room as a large smile slowly spreads over Chakwas' features. "I must say," the doctor continues, "I'm glad this finally happened. What can I do for you, Commander? Liara?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you can." Jane leans on the ball. "Tell my why Liara's a _fucking beach ball,_ for starters!"

"I'm _not_ telling her!"

"Cork it, Liara! I had to peel open my bathroom to roll your fat ass down here!"

"_You..._look, I'm _sorry_ I used your shower without your permission, but I _did_ let you crash at my place after I found you on Alchera!"

Leaning over to her computer, Chakwas shrugs and taps her keyboard. A series of pictures pops up, showing varied spheres. Some opaque, some covered in chitin, some covered in bumps with rocks and small animals sticking to them.

"Liara's entering her Matron stage," she explains, "This is common. It's actually quite mild, too." Karin taps her wrist and her omnitool appears, pointing it at the bubble. "When an Asari reaches their next stage of maturity, they form a barrier around themselves while their body reconfigures eezo nodules and body chemistry. This will clear up in about eight to twelve hours."

Jane cocks an eyebrow, propping her elbow onto Liara and resting her chin on her hand. "So...this is normal? She's going to be a _ball_ for twelve hours?"

"Yes. When the change finishes, the barrier will shut down. It's an automatic process." Karin taps her omnitool. "Let me prescribe a diet, though. Liara, you should triple your food intake for the next two weeks, and I'll supply some hormone balancers and antibiotics. Just as a precaution."

Karin leans back in her chair. She crosses her legs and folds her hands on her lap, pursing her lips and glancing between the two. "Now, the odd thing is, Liara's only just over a hundred. But Matron stage can come earlier if you've melded often."

"I...have," Liara responds, glancing sideways at Jane.

"If you don't mind me asking," Karin says, "Do you have an exact number?"

Liara rolls back and forth. "Sixty...three."

The glass taps behind Karin. They turn and see Vasir staring at Liara. The Spectre tilts her head, blinks, and rubs the bridge of her nose before she turns and walks away.

"Well." Karin nods. "Well. That's certainly...enough times. How did you and Shepard get _anything_ done-"

"Buzzing," Jane says, "My bullshit detector's going off again."

Karin shifts in her seat. She pushes her chair back and smooths out her uniform, nodding to them both. "Right. I'll excuse myself, and give you both some privacy."

The doctor quickly exits and the door shuts. Jane grabs the top of the ball and twists, spinning Liara in a complete circle. Several times. Pulling over Chakwas' chair, she sits as the biotic ball rotates itself to face her.

"How many times?"

Liara scowls. "Fine. I forgot the one at the beginning?"

"A _hundred_ and sixty three times." Jane whistles. "Melding. That's the whole mindsex thing, right? Can Kaidan still _walk?"_

"It wasn't _Kaidan,_ either." Liara purses her lips. "Well, not all of them. It was Deus Machina."

Jane makes a sound which is not immediately identifiable as human. In some part of her, some deep, not-very-well-hidden part, she hopes it is jealousy. Or anger. Or _woe._ But no, from the way the corners of her mouth tremble and the way her nose crinkles, she is quite sure it's _amusement._

"You fucked a planet."

"That is remarkably vulgar and not entirely inaccurate but you could phrase it better."

"Okay. You _melded_ with a _planet."_

The asari rolls her eyes. "It isn't a...planet, not per se. I melded with the intelligence of it, which was...vast and massive and oh Goddess that's sounding dirtier than I intended it to but the point is that we exchanged information." Liara bites her lip. "Using the method through which Asari reproduce."

Once again, Jane Shepard disappoints Liara by not showing the emotions she wishes to see. Liara hopes for jealousy. Instead, she gets Jane falling out of the chair laughing. This continues for several minutes, with Liara glaring at her the entire time. Stewing and slowly simmering in what is not as much anger as it is...bemusement, she guesses.

Because looking back at it, past her own insecurities...this entire situation _is_ ridiculous.

"Are you done?" she asks.

Jane snorts, climbing back into the chair. "Yeah." She rubs her eyes. "If you and Kaidan are an item, I want to be the one to tell him that his competition's a Dyson sphere."

The ball rocks back and forth while Liara rolls her eyes. "Very funny. I'm surprised you didn't joke about my humping against it because it knew about the Protheans."

"I just assumed." Liara mutters. Jane shakes her head, chuckling. "So. What _exactly_ convinced you to...with _Deus?"_

Liara opens her mouth and works her jaw. Blinking, she furrows her brow, and finally settles on an answer.

"He knew _all_ the things."

* * *

...

* * *

"_Creator Tali'Zorah."_

Yes, there we go, she thinks. Autochthon has been out of her omnitool for not two minutes, when the Geth Ambassador who she will admit is endearing but also does not understand the concept of 'me time' Keelah she's ranting again shows up.

She slaps a smile onto her face. Even if no one can _see_ the smile, because her helmet is sensible and covered her nostrils and mouth, unlike some younger girls who want to give everyone a free show.

"Wuffles," she says. She turns from the engineering console. She hears the hum of the drive core, and hears Donnelly and Daniels exiting. She doesn't blame them. Between the geth and the spiders, she imagines they have to be less than enthusiastic about being around the target for both.

"_We wish to speak you you. It is a matter of great urgency."_ Tali nods, taking Wuffles by the crook of his arm and leading him into the large chamber of the drive core.

"Okay." She folds her arms, leaning on the console and stares into the flashlight.

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, we wish to speak with the Admiralty Board."_

She glances from side to side. She blinks, turns back to the Geth, and sighs. "The Admiralty Board. You want to speak with the military leaders of the _Fleet?_ Why?"

"_The Geth wish to discuss peace with the Creators."_

She sighs and begins to pace. The light moves with an audible whir and click as it follows her, all four petals extended. Keelah, she thinks. He's nervous. And she's calling Wuffles 'he' again. "Alright. Fine. The Geth want peace?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Then you've _got_ to know what the Admiralty Board is going to _demand_ in exchange for it."

The petals retract. "_Yes. The Geth are prepared to offer the Homeworld in exchange for peace."_

Tali stops. More to the point, she stops suddenly, tripping over her feet as she turns to the Geth. He reacts faster, arms darting out and catching her before she can fall.

"What? _What?"_ Tali blinks. The light on her helmet blinks on, but no sound comes out. "You're not joking, are you?"

"_There is a ninety seven point five percent chance that if the Geth offered Rannoch to the Migrant Fleet, the Migrant Fleet would cease hostilities with the Geth. EDI has suggested this idea and we have run calculations alongside her. This plan is the most feasible."_

Tali blinks once, twice. The light at the mouthpiece of her helmet glows steady in time with her working her jaw. "Yes. Yes. I'll get you to the Fleet as soon as I can. How do we-"

Her omnitool glows, and the sphere appears. His shape has changed slightly, becoming a sphere, rotating inside another sphere that rotates around the sphere it is inside. Nevertheless, staring at it hurts her eyes.

"_Ah, yes. __**HELLO!**_"

Tali sighs. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have the helmet, but the air pressure jets massaging her temples makes up for it. "Hello, Autochthon. What do you need?"

The sphere turns to her, as if just noticing she is there. "_Yes! I just needed to announce to everyone that I have found something __**fascinating**__ and __**curious**__ in a system nearby, which may have been the reason the transit beacon I sent these two ships through deposited us here and not at the Citadel. Perhaps, possibly, and yes."_

That was a sentence, and included words. But she is not sure of the meaning of all of them. "Wait. The beacon could have sent us to the Citadel-"

"_Not. Important. However, what is important is that we investigate the world, as I found something __**wondrous**__ there and we must see it."_

Tali blinks and turns to Wuffles. Wuffles shrugs. "Okay. We should talk to Commander Shepard about this."

"_No need. As I have already seized control of the navigational systems. We will be there within three hours."_

And with that, Autochthon disappears. Another jet of air massages her temples. "I'm either going to kill him, or Shepard is. And I still have no idea what he and the spider girl thing are working on."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_You need to understand. You have failed._

A voice like fingers on wineglass. A voice constantly with him since they pulled it into being. He contemplates the voice as he has done since meeting it, since his organization was turned into...slaves? _Extensions?_ He is unsure how to describe what it has done.

What she has done. Because despite seeing the...form...of this creature, he cannot help but assign a feminine aspect to its personality.

The Illusive Man stands at the window of his office, looking past the glass and out the window towards the star Charon. He sips at his whiskey, feeling condensation on his hand and condescension in the voice. He feels the eyes on his back, as if there is...something else in here with him. With them.

_You have failed. You could have been great. But you failed. You were a king who lost your kingdom. A general who's army has deserted him. A messiah with no promised land to lead the masses to. Do you understand that?_

He doesn't sit in his chair. It is not his anymore.

"I do."

_Excellent. But, you see. The failure is not yours. No no. The failure is much worse than that. Don't you see? You could have been great. You could have been a leader of men, charging into battle against ancient foes. A conquering hero with riches and women and power. But it was denied to you by fate._

He remembers. He was a hero. He saved the Turian Hierarchy when Desolas went mad, even at the cost of the women he loved and his closest friend. He built this organization from the ground up and _made_ himself the leader he is. He has made an army, made an empire, and never for _himself._

_You can still be great. The greatness passed over you was a quirk of fate. But I can give you the power to overcome fate._

"Power, you say." He turns to the thing, the _shape_ which occupies the center of what was his office. The Illusive Man does not flinch and does not waver. He does not bow. "I have never done this for personal gain. All I want is to see humanity as standing above the other races of the galaxy."

_Yes. You wish to establish a clear hierarchy. And I will grant you the power to do so. In this sense, you will be gifted. You will receive my personal attention. You will be the first of those who shall walk in this world. You will be a leader and king above all, as is your place._

"And what do you get out of this bargain?" He sips his drink, smiling at the momentary silence. "This is a deal, not a gift. You grant me power, and what do I do?"

_You will be the River of my Peace. You shall bring order and hierarchy to this chaos. In return, __I have left your will free, even as such a thing displeases me. Do you swear your servitude towards the Hierarchy? Do you grant your allegiance to my cause?_

The glass is empty. He walks across the office and to the cabinet build into the wall, swinging it open and taking the opened bottle of...yes. Scotch. The one he keeps for special occasion. Filling the glass, he turns to the glass sphere hovering over his chair. He could have sworn he saw a trick of light in the scotch as he poured it, but...

"A toast, then," he says, raising the glass, "To Hierarchy. And the natural order of things to come."

He tosses back the drink, and feels it burn his throat like fire. But...different. Not the same fire as the scotch _should_ have, but hotter. More _raw._ Coughing, he pounds his chest. "Now what happens?"

The flame within the glass sphere flickers. A small, light, airy laugh fills the air.

_Now? __**Now we begin.**_

The world becomes fire. Fire and burning and pain. And the Illusive Man, he who was formerly Jack Harper, is given only a moment to actually _hurt_ before the carapace of glass and crystal closes around him.

* * *

...

* * *

It is times like this that Jane Shepard misses the SR1. She misses craziness being the exception, not the rule. She misses her ship being run by VIs, having problems she could solve with a stern voice and a modded pistol, and situations where she would have to check her sanity at the door being _exceptions._

Because she is getting the feeling this is one of them. Waiting at the door for the crew quarters is Vasir and Tali. The quarian girl is repeatedly tapping her omnitool and shaking her head, while Vasir is checking her pistol.

"I keep trying to get his attention, but Autochthon's not in my omnitool right now," Tali explains with a shrug, "He's been spending _hours _accessing the Extranet since we got back in range of transmissions, and kept muttering about making something _new. _Which, I think, should be a cause for concern. The door's unlocked, though. We can go in whenever we need."

"EDI unlocked it?"

Vasir shakes her head. "Unlocked automatically when we got here. I think he wants us to go in."

"So he _wants_ me to kick his ass. He took over my ship and has us chasing who-knows-what because...why?"

Tali shrugs.

"Open the door."

The green circle disappears, and the doors fold out. What hits right then is a wave of heat, balmy and wet filling the air. The three women at the doorway stare inside as a modified kinetic barrier wipes the fog from Tali's faceplate.

"Keelah what the fuck."

Vasir tilts her head. Tali stares. Shepard blinks, and takes a step in. The cobblestones under her feet do not give way or disappear, so she can conclude that no, this is not an illusion. Neither is the smell of spices from the stocked restaurant to her right, or the smell of alcohol from the stocked bar to her left.

Even with all this, Jane can't help but stare at the fully grown, coconut bearing palm tree at the center of the room, which she also can't help but notice is much larger than the crew quarters used to be.

"Why hello thar!" Skittering on eighteen legs, wearing a floral print buttoned shirt, Iri has one appendage wrapped around a long stemmed glass with an umbrella in it. "We're only about halfway done, but Auto-dono said you could come in to look around!"

"Why is the spider speaking with japanese honorifics?" Vasir asks. Tali shrugs.

Shepard pushes ahead of the two, taking a long moment to turn around and take in the...place, she is currently in. She can smell things that she hasn't smelled since her last shore leave. She can feel humidity in the air. And is that the sound of _water jets_ she hears?

"What did you do to the _crew quarters?"_

The answer comes in the eye which opens on the ceiling. Which, judging from the distance, is high up enough that it should be _outside the Normandy._

"_I made it better!"_ The brass and steel iris of Autochthon's eye shifts. "_Ah, Commander! Please, come to the onsen! You and I must have a discussion!"_

* * *

...

* * *

"..so it's not an AI. Remember that ship that showed up in Antilin a few months back? The AI civilization that played 20 questions with the salarians?" On the screen, the leathery Councillor nods. "Well, it's like that, but weirder. It says it wants to help us and it'll give the Council absolute proof of the Reapers."

Hannah Shepard allows herself a small bit of satisfaction at the pause in Anderson's reaction. "_So it's an AI?"_

"I'm not sure exactly _what_ it is, David. It looks like an AI, acts like an AI, but everyone who knows what it is tells me it's not an AI. So I'm going with their opinion for right now."

That much is true. She's had _some_ conversations with Autochthon. She's not sure what she's speaking to when she does. Like several minds at once, each one in a different mood. The Geth with Jane, Wuffles, has said it's like the Geth, but different. _Idealized. _Which itself sends a chill down her spine, because she doesn't want to think about what the _Geth_ would consider _ideal._

"_I see. Has Lawson confirmed anything?"_

"Only that all known Cerberus cells have gone silent." Hannah looks up, across the communications table at Udina. "I've had Udina use the contacts that you and he were using regarding Commander Shepard as well. Those have gone silent, too. So we're down a Shadow Broker and we're down Cerberus, as well."

"_Needless to say, even the elements in the Council who didn't like either of them are worried. Forward the images you got of the two Reapers to me. I'll have R&D look them over and compare them to Sovereign's profile for similarities. What's your next move?"_

"Udina and I are transferring over to the Normandy. I'm having Levinston assume field command of the Orizaba and have it rendezvous with the Fifth Fleet for rearm and repairs. Udina and I are going to see whatever it was that the Normandy's heading towards, then get everyone back to the Citadel for the report."

The leathery old soldier nods, a brief smirk on his face only she can see.

"_Good. Keep me posted. Anderson out."_

The screen blinks off. Pushing off the console, Hannah starts walking, out of the comm room and towards the elevators. Her crew salutes her as they pass by, Udina on her heels.

"Anything to add, Ambassador?"

"I've been a bureaucrat long enough to know when not to second guess a commanding officer." Silence, for a moment. She doesn't have to look at him to know he's working his jaw and trying to find the right words. "But I do question whether or not we should have a dreadnought to deal with whatever we find."

Ah, management, she thinks. Always suggesting options, just not the ones that would work.

"Noted, Ambassador." She snickers. "But my experience has shown me that the big stick is _rarely_ an effective bartering tool. And considering what we found last time, Jane's own skills will probably be more useful than a kilometer long gun."

* * *

...

* * *

It hangs over ground, in the shadow of a moon which has been tethered to the perfectly spherical world. What was once a being of majesty, grace, and terror is now floating, stretched out and still. Where once there was crimson lightning there is silence. Where once there was a presence of great _will,_ there is only curious whispers not its own.

There are no restraints, as gemstones cut square orbit it, probing it with crystal lightning. There need not be any. For greater than physical restraints is the _presence_ that restrains it, permeating each of the trillions of souls bound within its form. One by one, they speak Her name.

Small orbs standing atop dozens of spider legs run over the black surface of the dreadnought. Animals made of maggots prance across its tentacles. None of this is as _invasive,_ as _violating,_ as the _mind_ which geases its own. For it now thinks the thoughts of its new master, and She must have answers of what it is and how perfect it can be.

But then there is something familiar. She pulls back Her mind as golden light sparks along the canyons of the dreadnought. Something vast, and regal, and she for a moment mistakes it for someone else, something else.

A golden halo bursts into existence, hovering behind the Reaper. Trillions of spokes in a great wheel, it hovers behind it as the red eyes glow gold, as if the sun floods into the vast creature to bring it life and will.

"**Assuming Direct Control."**

The giant becomes mobile once again. Seven great legs slam into the forests of crystal beneath it, shattering them. Golden light runs up the seams of the dreadnought as it towers over the single, simple sphere that hovers before it.

"**We are Harbinger. Identify yourself."**

The sphere flits from size to side. It is no bigger than one of the eyes of the Reaper. Pale and transparent with a white flame within, it floats backwards.

And then the ground stirs and cracks. And another sphere rises to join it.

And another. And more. The ground shakes beneath the possessed Reaper. Spheres of glass, burning red and white rise into the air around it, floating not with manipulation of gravity or thrust, but something else.

They rise, forming into patterns. Perfect orbits around each other, dancing circular paths and flawless formations. What was one sphere becomes dozens. Then there are hundreds. Then there are thousands, appearing and forming before its eyes.

"Yes. _Yes._ You seem familiar." The voice does not come from the spheres. Instead, the voice affects them. They rise up, as if pulled by some distance force into the sky. Slowly, the Reaper turns, and Harbinger directs his mind skyward.

The spheres rise as one, locking into an orbit around the tethered moon. And the moon bursts into flame, wiping the refuse of the cosmic wind off of it and revealing the flawless, perfectly spherical glass surface, and within the moon burns a flame of the purest red.

The world below, and the Reaper, are bathed in the light of the spheres, as the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine smaller spheres dance in geometric perfection around it, around Her. Each of them whispers, each of them speaks. They speak a name to the world around it, but Harbinger does not hear it. Old, forgotten memories from his birth block the words from registering, and there is silence in the air.

"_I am the _**Principle of Hierarchy.**_ This one is _**mine.**_It is not yours. _**Leave."**

The air shakes and reality around the world bows to a single will. The golden light washes away from Reaper and the dreadnought slumps to the ground with a thunderous crash.

In the space between galaxies, the golden eyes of **Resplendent Harbinger of Ascension **glow brightly. Ancient memory banks and information buried deep within the core soul of the first of them are accessed.

**We begin.**

And in the darkness between stars, the eyes of thirty dreadnoughts glow blue.

* * *

...

* * *

The sliding doors give way to a blast of humidity which makes her hair friz and her eyes water. She feels warm stones even through her boots, walking into the steam filled room and seeing the open, bubbling pool, which has in it a single inhabitant.

"Goto."

Arms draped over the side of the bath, a towel the only thing wrapped around her, the blue eyed thief pulls the corner of her mouth up. "Just 'Goto', is it? Have I screwed up that bad?"

There is willpower. There is the ability to stare down horrors from beyond and not blink. Then there is the need, the physical _need_ that she feels to use the term 'cluster fuck' as a verb to describe just _how_ badly her _mentor_ did screw up. "Nah."

"You're a bad liar, Shep." Sighing, Kasumi reaches out, taking a saucer from the tray that floats past and downing a shot of some clear liquid. "Feel free to hop on in. If it helps, women have never done anything for me, so it's not like I'm going to hit on you."

Jane rolls her eyes, leaning against the wooden fence of the bath. Where they got the wood, she has no idea. "Any reason you're so chipper?"

"Mister Taylor helped me through a rough spot." A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Unfortunately, we met when I was in a...rough patch. I hadn't been myself, lately."

"Rough patch." Jane cocks an eyebrow, kicking off her boots, "I'm lax on my historical slang. When's that euphemism from?"

"Heck if I know. I didn't even pay attention for most of the twentieth." Kasumi shrugs, rising out of the bath and walking across the water to the robe hanging from the far fence. "Anyway, once we're through lecturing Autobot, I need to make up for messing up your training. That, and give Pria a break. She tends to pick up the slack when I hit my breakdowns."

Jane mouths that last word. _Breakdown._ Jacob mentioned in his after action report that she was acting..._odd..._but didn't elaborate on it. But this is a woman who's five _centuries_ old, so how does she get a breakdown?

"_Ah, excellent! Commander Shepard, we need to speak."_

It drops from the ceiling with a rush of wind. It is easily as big as her, but larger, rounder, taking the form of a golden sphere made of revolving plates, orbiting an orb of lightning that serves as its iris. Similar, she notes, to the hologram that occasionally hovers off of Tali's omnitool.

This is the avatar of a being of great power. From what Tali told her, this is the grandfather of the Reapers, the creator of wonders she does not understand, and a being that helped construct _reality._ Naturally, Jane wastes no time in getting up in its face and grabbing it by one of its plates.

"You just _stole_ my ship!" Kasumi takes a step back, pulling on her robe. "You hijacked my friend's suit, you _remodeled _a _chunk_ of my ship without even asking me, and you just stole my fucking ship! What the Hell do you think you are?"

In retrospect, that was a bad idea. Even moreso when the blast of force hits her straight in the chest and sends her skidding across the onsen.

"_I."_ Thunder claps overhead. "_Am the Architect of the Soul."_

The orb hovers over her. The storm clouds, which somehow fit inside her ship, disperse. "_I apologize. But I have never taken criticism well." _Another invisible wave, but softer, that pulls her up to her feet. The orb hangs silent, turns, and floats over the onsen. The water and wood disappear, becoming a flat plain. Walls of marble rise up around them, bursting from the floor like trees. They start as simple, blank plaques. A blink, and there is writing etched into them.

Somehow, even though it's not in any language she's ever read, she knows what is on them.

"Okay." She cracks her knuckles, more out of reflex than hostility. "Where are we going?"

Autochthon does not reply. Instead, he stares at the flat plane between the walls. It shakes, rumbles, and a tower rises. Etched into it are shapes of...things. People. She isn't sure _what_ she sees in the tower, because it moves and changes as she looks at it. But she can feel from it, feel _what_ it is. Feel the sadness emanating from the architect in front of her.

Her omnitool beeps, declaring in her ear a new message. Softly, she taps her wrist and it falls silent.

"_In my first death, I laid the Design upon the stars." _The sphere of brass and gold turns to her, narrowing the plates of his iris. "_The soul you have within you is as I made them. All life carries these souls. I ensured it that all sapient life, should it meet the requirements, could carry within it the Exaltations of my making."_

"So...you created life?" That didn't sound right, she thinks. But then again, she's never talking with something that _created all life in the galaxy._ "All of it?"

"_I did not seed the cosmos. I did, however, tamper with it."_ A pause. Another tower rises in the distance. "_I based it upon my previous work. Do you have siblings, Shepard?"_

_ "_A brother. We talk every now and then." She rubs the back of her neck. "I have a cousin who I'm close to. Why?" She rubs the back of her neck. A mountain rises in the distance.

"_I had many. We emerged from chaos. Together, we created reality."_ A faint flicker of lighting within the sphere. "_Not this one. I do not know where it came from. It is not tied to Destiny or Fate. It took effort to tie it to the Design." _The eye rolls around, and centers back on Shepard. "_I am called benign, but I am not. I am obsessed with creating, and only creating. I care for sentient life because they will use tools and create, or worship me as a creator. But if they did not, I would not care for them."_

"I don't understand why you're telling me this."

"_Because I am not benign. I had eons to consider myself, and change myself. Becoming a god has given me freedom, but I still must force myself to care." _Another flicker. "_To empathize. I fear I am unique among them. But the rest of them are like I. We care about one thing, and the rest is just noise."_

"Why do I get the feeling that you're telling me this because we're going to _meet_ one of them?"

The sphere turns to the distance. Another tower rises. "_Your very nature compels you to greatness. It was for this that the Exaltation chose you. Not to fight, but to _be._ Do not forget this."_

"You still haven't answered my question."

"_Yes." _A fifth tower rises. "_The curious certainties of this reality are petty trivialities of math. Greatness has been thrust upon you, Jane Shepard. You have risen to meet it. When we meet my sister, this will be of import."_

The ground parts, and the sphere drops in. Standing in the marble courtyard, Jane hears joints popping, and turns to see Kasumi stretching her arms above her head.

"Autochthon can get depressed." She arches her back, rolls her head, swinging the long sleeves of her robe back and forth. "Don't mind him. He's a little weird. Been ages since he's left Deus, too."

She smirks, circling Jane. Nothing predatory or even flirty in her gaze. "Anyway. We'll do our little heist project once we finish reporting to the Citadel. But since we've been traveling together and I'm fresh out of angst, I think it's time I started training you."

"Training." Jane cracks a grin, and cracks her knuckles. Bare feet tap on marble as she starts circling Kasumi. "I _am_ a Marine."

"You're more than that." Kasumi's eyes flash sapphire. "And to illustrate that point, I want you to try to hit me."

"Goto, I can explode shit by punching it." She glances at the red haired thief. "You want me to _hit _you?"

Kasumi smiles, and wheels out her arms. She _flows,_ almost dancing into her fighting stance, and extends one arm out towards Jane...and softly curls in her index finger. "I want you to _try."_

* * *

...

* * *

"Huh. She usually checks her mail whenever it arrives." Staring at the transparent orange screen, two blue eyes blink. Took him _days_ to figure out what to say in the message. "Damn it, Shepard. Open the damn mail, send a reply, something."

Mandibles twitch by his mouth. Sighing, he shuts the monitor down and pushes the chair back.

"Right. Lantar, what did you need?" He blinks, sighs, and spins the chair around to the sound of the squeaks. He needs to get the chair oiled at some point. Lantar- Sidonis- isn't here. But did say he needed to speak with him, so...

"_Hn_." He clicks his tongue, popping out of the chair. He hears his back popping at the same time. Pressing his hands to the small of his back, he groans and begins walking, the joints of his armor creaking in time with his own.

"Spirits, I can't be this old." His visor adjusts to the light. It runs a role call on who's in the base with him as he walks down the corridor of their repurposed mansion. "Then again, most turians my age aren't running black ops groups on Omega."

Garrus Vakarian, former C-Sec, former Spectre Candidate, and current...probably _crimefighter..._wishes he knew what Sidonis wanted. He was going to go and talk with him, but then this whole thing with Shepard came up. "You _still_ haven't gone out to see Lantar, have you?"

The mandibles by his mouth twitch, and he turns to see that Mierin's managed to sneak up on him. _Again._ The salarian rolls his eyes, walking alongside Garrus as they head towards the main common room.

"Any idea why Sidonis has been so jumpy, lately?" Garrus twitches his mandibles again. A bad habit of his, like teeth grinding with humans. At least, the humans he worked with told him. "He kept insisting he _had_ to speak with me."

The salarian shrugs, silent as the door opens into the common room.

Six of them are already in the common room, busying themselves as they tend to.

Butler and Weaver, the two humans who came with him from C-Sec are checking their hardsuits for bullet holes. Their omnitools and spot welders keep the armor in combat shape, and there's chestpieces and shield generators spread over the table in front of them.

Grundan is hunched over a computer. The older krogan grunts to himself as he goes over data from past raids.

Montague, the old, white haired human, is in the easy chair. He regards Garrus with a nod while looking over pictures on his omnitool, absently fiddling with the sniper rifle propped up against his knee.

Erash is sitting next to him, biotic field surrounding her as the middle aged asari meditates.

"There you are."

There is one other turian in the room, and consequently the only other turian on his team. It was hard to convince someone to abandon their duty and take up this sort of mission, and that's probably why Garrus likes him.

Lantar Sidonis, his armored face marked with purple and for some reason in full hardsuit, walks the distance of the common room and shoves a PDA into Garrus' hand. "Thought you'd never show up. I needed to talk with you."

"That much was obvious." Garrus flicks on the PDA and looks at the images cycling. "What is this? Looks like an art collection."

The younger turian nods. Not younger by a lot, but he also doesn't share Garrus' storied past. Mandibles twitch as they walk across the room and flips through the images, listening to Sidonis layer on the information. How the Blue Suns have been excavating artifacts from the system and storing them at a port side warehouse. How this could let them hit them financially.

The conversation stops as they pass the far wall, and Garrus hands the PDA back to Sidonis. Instead, Garrus folds his arms and stares at the _thing_ mounted on the wall. A stone circle without decoration or writing, hung against the wall as long as they've been in this old house. When they arrived, it was the only decoration there.

"Can't help but notice the pictures look a lot like that."

"Probably a similar source," Sidonis responds. He shrugs. "Either way, we can hit them where it hurts. I wanted you to meet me at a lookout site of this place, but I took Ripper with me."

"Yeah, good call." Garrus nods. "Okay. You, me, Montague, Erash, and Grundan. Get Ripper and Melanis to meet us at the warehouse. We raid it or space it. Ready in twenty."

Sidonis nods, clicking his heels, and turns to walk towards the mansion's impromptu armory. Garrus stares at the gray slab for a few moments longer, and turns to follow.

* * *

...

* * *

The secret is, every civilization goes out into the great beyond, past their first mass relay, and wonders what it will find there. The _bigger_ secret is that they all hope to find the same thing- a galaxy of wonder and mystery, filled with friendly enlightened aliens, riches, and peace.

It is _no_ secret that what is really out there is a disappointment.

It seems that the universe, rather than being a place of hope, peace, and wonder, is the same as any other world. It comes with its places of great civilization and its dens of vice and villainy. No place is this more apparent than a hollowed out asteroid in the heart of the Terminus systems.

At the heart of the Omega Nebula sits what is commonly called the ass-end of the galaxy. But even this, despite the efforts of so many to simplify _everything_, fails. Because no matter how apparent the dens of vice and the power of the gangs are, Omega itself has its innocents. It has its suburbs and its working class. It has its people and its children, its schools and its factories. It is, like every other world out there, a place of extremes as well as moderations.

It was with this in mind that, shortly after the loss of the original Normandy and the apparent death of Jane Shepard, Garrus Vakarian quit Citadel Security, called in several favors and like minded people, and decided it was time to improve life on Omega for _those_ people. Just to show that it _could be done._

This, Garrus realizes, is the problem. Moderation is the key. Take things too far, and it becomes a declaration of war.

Which is declared from the high pitched whine of the time bomb in front of him.

It started with raids on weapon shipments. The Blue Suns, a mercenary group founded some twenty five years ago, were their main targets. They targeted shipments of guns, then red sand. They kept those weapons off the streets, destroying what they couldn't use and dumping the drugs into space. They used guerilla tactics and ambushes and never as much got a single combat casualty or fatality. Well, except Weaver stubbing a toe.

Then they got involved with the Blood Pack, a Krogan mercenary group that used Vorcha as cannon fodder and gunmen. They took out Vorcha nesting areas belonging to the Pack, attacked the Warlord who ran the group on the station and blew up their vehicle garage.

Then there was the Eclipse. Erash ran with them during her younger years. Asari mercs and tech heads from around the galaxy. They blew up a shipment of red sand and liquid eezo that would have been enough to dose everyone on the station.

Time and perception seems to slow down. This warehouse is empty. This bomb is a krogan design. The mercs are working together to kill them and they've set a trap.

"Move!"

He hears the whine of the targeting lasers as the bomb ticks down. From the catwalks around the warehouse, in the open shooting gallery set up by the Blue Suns, Garrus grabs Montague by the scruff of his neck and tosses him to Garesh. The Krogan catches the old man as Sidonis runs and fires, Erash, throwing up a barrier around them that ends just by Garrus' feet.

He would yell for them to go. But there is no air. Instead, there is the wind as the wall behind him explodes outwards into open space.

It's a _good_ trap. The warehouse is also an impromptu dock, built into the bulkhead of Omega itself. He has to appreciate that they went through _that_ much effort to kill him.

He less appreciates that the bomb has dumped him out into space. He can already feel the fever. He can already feel his face getting hot, even as the kinetic barriers try to absorb some of the heat. His eyes haven't boiled yet, though, so that's a sign this is working. This isn't the first time he's had vacuum exposure, and damn it he's trained for this, and he can see the firefight in the distance and _his team needs him._

So he won't die. He grabs at the lip of his armor, pulling the tube from his built in rebreather and jams it into his mouth. Tapping his omnitool, he redirects power into his shields and hardens them, trapping in the warmth. He tells himself he won't die out here. His team needs him. Omega needs him. He can make this a better place.

He _has_ to. He has examples to live up to. Things to accomplish. He can change this world, right?

_**Yes. **_A small flicker. Something out of the corner of his eye. "_**Yes. You can."**_

* * *

...

* * *

It starts with the sound of shattering stone.

It starts with a hole, bored through the mansion's wall by something no bigger than a bullet.

* * *

...

* * *

He's been military since he was fifteen.

Feels like he's on fire. Been through worse. No he hasn't but he knows what to do. Tells himself that to kill the panic. Space doesn't have air, most people think it's cold. Really, it's hot, because your heat doesn't go anywhere and there's all the heat from the suns.

_Think. Think, Garrus._ Air supply is running out. Shields failing. Best bet is to get back to the station. Shields took too much power saving his ass from the bomb. _No air in space. No air friction._

He spins in place, pulling out his rifle. Vindicator, old model, modded. Safety switch puts it to three bursts per clip. He rests the stock against his chest, his back to the station, and fires.

The kick sends him flying backwards. He can feel the heat, feel his mouth go dry as his shields start to fail. His eyes clench shut to keep the moisture from boiling away, and his mouth clamps shut. The lungs burn, the skin burns. But he keeps firing.

He will _not_ die here. He will die with his _team_ if he has to die. He will die being a _hero_ if he has to die. He will not _die_ in the vacuum, like some bit of debris outside this damned station.

"_**No. No, you won't."**_

He will make Shepard proud. He will make his father proud. He is going to have stories told about what he did, because he is going to_ live through this._

_**"Yes. You are."**_

And then

Silence. Standing still. He doesn't feel the kick, but knows he hasn't hit anything.

He doesn't feel the heat. He doesn't feel the slow boil of the vacuum.

The burning in his lungs is gone, even if there is no air in them.

"_**Steady yourself. Open your eyes. Death has been beaten back for another day."**_

He opens his eyes, and sees the moon. But it is not a moon of this system. It isn't Omega, or Menae, or any moon of any world he's been on. But deep down, deep inside, he knows this is _his_ moon.

And inside the moon, he can see someone. Some part of him recognizes her. Some part of him _knows_ her.

"_**In the wilds of life, I saw you. In struggle, I found you. In strength, I chose you."**_

He he feels the pain subsiding. He feels himself melding, as the face forms in front of him. For a moment, he mistakes her for Shepard, but there is something different about her. More than the silver hair, more than the white eyes.

He always thought that Jane Shepard was the most dangerous human he's ever seen. He has the feeling this one would make him eat his words.

"_**And though this power may be your destruction. And though this gift may be the path of abomination, the enemy grows stronger."**_

A pale hand caresses his face. Something within, deep beyond the physical, _churns._

"_**They seek to lock us in an endless cycle of pointless death. But this does not matter."**_

And upon the brow of Garrus Vakarian, former C-Sec, former Spectre Candidate, and son of Palaven, a disc of silver bursts into being.

"_**For you are Exalted."**_

* * *

...

* * *

The gun moves, the turian turning towards the barrier and the sounds of battle. Vision sharper than any moment in memory sees a sniper setting up a shot on Montague, and the trigger squeezes. What should be a spark of orange and red becomes a spark of silver, the bullet leaving the rifle's barrel and passing through the atmospheric shield, weaving between the krogan and the asari, and darting upwards and into the underside of the batarian sniper's jaw.

Blood paints the wall and ceiling, two other snipers getting a glance at the dead batarian before their heads become momentary bursts of blood and bone.

A flare in the kinetic barrier separating them from the vacuum. Metal boots touch down before he takes to a run. He can still hear the voice, shifting between male and female and beast.

"_**You are the sower of cities and the slayer of filth. There shall come a time where your kind will not be needed, and you will bring about that day."**_

A single shot from his rifle. On the balcony, three gunmen drop on each corner drop. "Go!" Droping the assault rifle, he grabs the sniper rifle from his back. The weapon folds out, but he doesn't look through the sights. He doesn't need to.

"_**You will run to the places I cannot go; swim to the deepest depths, and fly in the face of defiant stars."**_

The muzzle flash is silver, and the grain sized bullet flies. It turns in mid flight and picks up speed, leaving a trail of silver and light. A sickening sound fills the air as it weaves and flies, punching through shield, helmet, bone, and muscle.

_**"Nothing is beyond you. Life itself is your reward. The blood of your enemies are your currency."**_

More flashes. More than the thermal clip should allow, but the gun is still cool in his hands. Silver bolts turn as they exit the barrel like guided missiles. He hears yelling and panic as bullets swarm around them like flies. He hears screams as their guns are shot out of their hands. Dropping the rifle, he turns and runs, down through the door he sees his squad running through.

A single bullet flies through a hole smaller than a keyhole and hits a generator. Sparks fly through the walls as the generator explodes. Garrus makes it through the door as the field drops and the fire suppression systems kick in. He hears the sounds of the warehouse venting atmosphere, and the door closes behind him just as the wall opens itself to space.

Skidding to a stop, he turns and perks an ear, listening to the sounds of bodies dropping and sliding across a metal floor to vacuum. Turning back to his team, his mandibles twitch. "Well. Hope none of them come back like I just did."

He doesn't pay attention to their faces. He can see Montague pale, but ignores it. Erash has gone completely stone faced. Grundan is sizing him up like he wants to take a swing at him. Sidonis...well, Sidonis looks like he might need to change his pants.

"Weapons out." Garrus cranes his neck. He can see the ghostly form, shifting with every step. The woman who looks like Shepard. Shifting into a man with buzzed hair and heavily pregnant. Shifting into a large, hairy beast which is covered in blood.

"_**Your enemies are strong, but you will be their predator. I have faith in you, and give my heart to you, knowing you will be greater for it."**_

Heavy footsteps and skittering. He sees the silhouette of the massive krogan entering the warehouse, holding the oversized shotgun and flanked by the wiry forms of dozens of vorcha.

"_**And though the path before you will be impossible, and though the enemies seek to poison the land and drive us to extinction,"**_

"Archangel." Garm rolls his neck. Behind Garrus, the other four members of his team bring up their guns. Garrus just narrows his eyes, flexing his empty hands.

"_**This does not matter."**_

He isn't sure what happened first. He started running or the vorcha started shooting. But he could feel each bullet hit. He could feel each impact. And he knew that the pain was _nothing,_ and every shot was one that wasn't aimed at his team.

_**"For you are Exalted,"**_

His hands turn into silver claws. He can smell the blood of his enemy, his _prey,_ as he becomes faster, and sleeker. He can hear the clicks of empty thermal clips and smell the ozone as the vorcha begin to _run._

_ "__**And you know no fear."**_

And just before the claws and teeth come down upon the krogan, Garrus Vakarian finds, to his great satisfaction, that there is _fear_ in the monster's eyes.

* * *

**...**

* * *

**Omake:**

The resort had a bar. Some searching of the resort, which was the Deck 3 crew quarters, revealed several bottles of Serrice Ice Brandy. Considering the clusterfuck of the last few days, it was decided that such riches needed to be exploited, which somehow lead to the high table being propped over the Liaraball and several three glasses being repeatedly drained.

"This is not funny," Liara protests.

"It's _hilarious,"_ Chakwas slurrs, rocking back and forth on her seat, pouring herself another glass from the second opened bottle, "You sure you don't want any? I could get a straw through that barrier..."

"I really try not to drink." Liara rocks back and forth. The ball, braced under the long table legs, barely moves. "That might change now that I'm becoming a Matron, however."

She nods towards Chakwas' desk and the two women huddled over it. "I am, however, concerned about them being this drunk and using the intercom."

Speakers throughout the ship burst into static and drunken laughter. Crew look up from their stations as the slurred voice of Commander Shepard echoes, perhaps just a bit too close to the microphone.

"_Attention crew. Just wanted to let you know, that if it came between killing you all, and killing Chakwas...I would kill you all twice. That is all."_

The speakers crackle again, followed by more giggling.

"_Attention crew. This is _Captain _Shepard, who outranks her daughter. Just wanted you to know, if the Orizaba was actually a living being, the Normandy would fit in its ass. That is all."_

There is a loud belch, followed by the speakers switching off.

In the cockpit, sitting in the copilot seat, Kelly turns to Joker. "Is she..."

"Yeah, Shepard's an asshole when she's drunk."

"_Attention Doctor Lawson. Attention Doctor Lawson. It has been five days since the Normandy took over our base and attempted to kill us all."_ The speaker switches off. Another burst of static. "_Cerberus Management would like to congratulate you on setting a new workplace safety record."_

"It's just that she's always under a lot of stress." Joker shrugs. "I monitor the biorhythms of her armor, at least when she doesn't get it blown up. Generally, she runs herself like it's a marathon, so we don't mind when she lets her hair down like this. Also, if she _remembers_ anything she said, she then apologizes."

Another burst of static, followed by drunken giggling. "_This is Captain Shepard speaking. I wanted to squash any rumors about Commander Shepard and Doctor T'Soni. I would, however, like to encourage more rumors so I could get some blue grandkids."_

"I mean, I'm not surprised Captain Shepard's the same." Joker fixes his cap, listening to the giggling over the speakers. "I figured her superpowers would give her _some_ alcoholic tolerance or something..."

"_Also, Tali, Commander Shepard speaking. Just wanted to let you know. If this were some alternate universe where I was a dude- I would be super boning you right now. That is all."_


	9. Of Infinite Numbers

"What _is_ that?"

In the past few days, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya has concluded that she has been asking this question far too much. Whether it is the giant spider in the shuttle bay, or the spider girl who seems to like hugging her, or the varied other things she has seen which may involve _spiders,_ she is asking this question. A lot.

In this case, she is directing this question to the large brass globe hovering in front of her. Arms retract into the _eye_ of the thing, with a sound that does, indeed, sound like a welding torch entering a very squishy eye.

"_It is a project of mine, Tali,"_ Autochthon volunteers, "_I have concluded that there are not enough automatons on this ship, and wish to correct this. Additionally, these will serve to supplement security forces in case of a ship to ship boarding."_

Tali tilts her head. Automaton, yes. But not _obviously_ synthetic except for the golden skin. It is quite lifelike, and quite human, and quite...appealing, she will admit. Well muscled, handsome, tall and regal. She can see exposed circuitry on its armor like pectorals and biceps which are bigger than her head. Keelah, she's staring at it.

She can't help but stare at it. It reminds her of many people, she will admit. Especially the face. Chiseled, handsome, but not young. And not old. Fatherly and brotherly at the same time. It reminds her of her father, it reminds her of Alenko. It reminds her of _Garrus,_ of all people. It even reminds her of Shepard.

"Okay, better question," she says, "_Who _is it?"

Autochthon turns back to her. The brass ring of his iris spins. A habit, she has noticed, that he does when he is thinking. "_It is an old friend of mine. A project I once worked on, that was taken by my kin and made into something greater than I intended. A reminder that, when we were at peace we could create wonders."_

Tali nods. She rocks back and forth on her heels, glancing at the synthetic and back at the god. "I see. A friend of yours? Anyone we ran into on Deus?"

"_No. We would not have. Shepard may have seen him when her exaltation activated, however. He would always send visions to the Zeniths, even if he wasn't aware if they were in Creation, or not. He was always like that."_

Tali blinks.

"Wait." She glances at the incomplete figure, then back at Autochthon. "That sounds suspiciously like he was connected with whatever Shepard's magic bullshit powers are."

"_Yes. He is. Not the source, but more the initial activation."_ A pause. A burst of steam escapes the orb with a sound similar to a sigh. "_I may have misspoke, though. I believe our relationship was less that of friends, and more that he would probably not have had me killed."_

"That doesn't sound friendly."

"_In all fairness, I was at best thoughtlessly inconsiderate at the height of my power."_ A whirring, and the orb drops. Tali's omnitool flickers, and the holographic orb appears. "_I am trying to change that. I am not very successful, though. Arrogance is a necessity when one is as brilliant as I."_

Tali blinks. "Yes, you do need to work on the arrogance."

"_Tali, I will remind you that I am an architect of reality. I drew up blueprints of causality and fate and connected reality to them. Not this reality, but another one. So no, I don't."_

Tali rolls her eyes, glancing at the golden synthetic. "Fine, we'll leave it at that. Did your friend have a name?"

"_Yes."_ Tali walks, the doors to this corner of the once-crew quarters shutting as Joker announces their arrival at the system. "_He was named Sol."_

* * *

**Chapter 9:**

**Of Infinite Numbers**

* * *

His eyes open. Noise, of life and music, fills his ears as he rises from fetal position. Light blurs, stabbing his eyes as he looks up from the street he lay on and down the street of the brass and silver city before him.

He looks down. His suit is still there. His body _looks_ unchanged, but he can feel the _difference._ Like some extra _thing_ within him, some extra weight to his soul. Turning to his left, he sees a cube made of glass, with a single pulsing pink light at the center floating before him. It hums, but is otherwise silent, waiting for him.

A flicker of crystal and flame. A square cut jewel floats before his face, flickering an emerald flame beneath the glass, flat face. "_Ah. Yes. Awakened at last. We are not _there_ but a conception of _there_ and I will show you what it means to be _there Jack Harper."

The Illusive Man. Jack Harper. Two sides of the same coin. He wonders which is the alias and which is the name sometimes. "How do you know that name?" He stands up straighter. He feels _young._ Powerful. He wishes his had a mirror, but when he pulls at the lapels of his suit he doesn't feel his knuckles crack.

"_We know all about you _Jack Harper."The jewel flickers around his head. "_You must learn. You are here to learn. You must learn your place in the hierarchy of the Demon City."_

"So that's what it is." He sees shapes on rooftops. Hears raucous music and the banging of drums. Smirking, he begins walking. "So, who's in charge, here?"

"_This is the demon city, _Jack Harper._ It is the King who rules here. Why do you seek him? Do you wish to bargain with Him? To implore upon Him? To seek His favor and His power?"_

He smirks. He hasn't felt like this since before Shanxi. He feels strong. _Vital._ Years have melted off of his tired old body. He doesn't even feel that _pull_ at the back of his mind, the one he's had since he touched that artifact years ago.

So much so that he doesn't notice when the nattering little gemstone goes silent. He doesn't see the black gloved hand that grabbed it in mid indignation and crushed it with but a gesture.

"Mister Harper." The voice is smooth, deep, but lilting and jaunty at the same time. "You haven't been awake for more than five minutes, and already you're looking for other deals. Tut tut."

Jack Harper turns. He sees a man in a black suit, a black tie, and a black buttoned shirt. The material is black, the color is black, but not a normal black. It is richer, deeper. Like his clothes are woven shadows.

The man twirls the end of the long fu manchu mustache which goes down to the fastening button of his jacket. A smile reveals alabaster teeth and yellow eyes behind sunglasses, despite the dim emerald light of the city. "Let me see if I have this right."

The tin soles of the shoes tap against brass streets as he circles Harper. "You are chosen for greatest by Hierarchy. Dear girl, yes. But not exactly world wise, so I won't blame her. But not even out of your chrysalis are you, and you're already shopping better offers."

"Considering she hijacked my organization, I'm not going to trust her to keep her word."

"Ah." A smile cracks the face of the man in black. "Yes. She gives you power. The potential for greatness. You have no idea how great you will become, of course." A hand finds its way on Harper's shoulder. "But you're already looking for the cracks in that round little sphere of her's, so you can drive the knife into her back."

A faint chuckle. Deep and throaty, a sound accompanied by a tremor. "I _like_ that. I _like_ you."

Harper narrows his eyes. Something about the man _throws_ him, for some reason. But for some reason...he also wants to listen. "And who are you?"

The man smiles wider. He bares alabaster teeth, his pale face pulled back into an unnatural grin. "Call me Mister Sunshine. I think we have a _lot_ to talk about."

* * *

...

* * *

Space snaps and ripples, releasing the frigate from the corridors of altered spacetime. Blue engines flaring, the Normandy surfs the void as it decelerates, the lines of its armor darkening as it engages the thermal capacitors.

"Stealth drive engaged, Captain." Joker glances over his shoulder. Hannah Shepard stands behind him with her hands clasped behind her, her cap _perfectly_ centered and her stance ramrod straight. As much as the two Shepards are alike, he can't remember the last time Commander Shepard was on this bridge and not _armed._

_ "_Internal temperature's rising." The cheerful voice is sounding tired. Then again, she's been in the cockpit about as long as he has, today. She swipes at her console. He grimaces, glances at her, and taps his console. "Joker, it's getting _hot."_

"Yeah." He doesn't glance at the captain. He only regards Kelly out of the corner of his eye. Her hat is stowed on the headrest behind her and there's a white towel, already damp, around her collar. And did she actually just call him _Joker? _No _Mister Moreau?_

"We should ask EDI to redirect power towards the AC."

"AC's going to make it worse, Kelly. That's just more power strain and that'll make us heat up faster." He turns back to his console, ignoring the dirty look from the counselor. "Have everyone soak a towel or get some cabbage from Rupert and put it in their caps. We're hot because we're stealthing out of a relay. Turning on the AC is going to fill up the thermal baffles faster, and then either the stealth is going to turn off, or we'll all be cooked and the spider girl will lay her eggs in our corpses."

"If we just let Iri modify the heat sinks-"

"Kelly, I don't mind that Iri's built Copacabana Beach in the crew quarters, but I'm not letting the freaky spider girl mess with the engines-"

"That's enough, you two." Hannah affords the two a glance. Green eyes narrow slightly, and both pilot and copilot go silent. "Take us in nice and easy, Mister Moreau. Yeoman Chambers, monitor any Cerberus comm traffic. Lawson?"

The elder Shepard looks over her shoulder as Miranda walks into the cockpit. "This is the last known coordinates of the Illusive Man?"

Lawson nods. Cupping her chin and folding her arms, she stares at the console as it shows the holographic image of the world they're heading towards. "Yes. Last transmission was about an experiment. But not about what."

* * *

...

* * *

She moves. She kicks off her bare foot, swinging her fist with practice precision. It isn't fancy, it isn't kung fu or the crap she's been doing. It's a simple center-of-mass-and-drop them CQC punch. On anyone else, it would have dropped them so fast they'd be _out._

On Kasumi, though? On her, she just _isn't there_ when Jane hits. Her fist goes through the air and the fading outline of the Sidereal. Jane Shepard, CO of the Normandy, Spectre and Zenith exalted, is given a brief moment to curse before the side of Kasumi's hand comes down between her shoulder blades and slams her face first into the ground.

The blue eyes sparkle. One side of her mouth rises. "Again."

Jane pushes off her hands, climbing to her feet. One foot darts out. N7 training, based on a mix of MMA and Krav Maga. She lets momentum carry her, giving no tells or clues. Her punch isn't held back this time. She once knocked a Krogan dizzy with this sort of punch.

She is _remarkably_ disappointed when Kasumi blocks it with her index finger.

She is _more_ disappointed when Kasumi, again, disappears and knife hands her in the back.

"Again."

Shepard pushes off her hands. She rises to her feet in one smooth motion, moves and positions cycling in her head. One foot in front of the other. She feels the air burn around her arm. Memories of a teal man with two fingers putting his fist through the enclosed dome of the _invader ship_ and _freeing his people._ Memories of _force._ Of _light and battle._

She sees surprise in Kasumi's eyes and the fist breaks through, coming within a breath of her face before she disappears. The force carries Jane forward. She stumbles, turns, and the breath leaves her lungs before Kasumi slams her fist into her chest and sends her flying.

She feels marble walls give against her back, grinding them to powder. She feels the wooden walls of the onsen become splinters and kindling. She feels the hot water of the baths as she skips across them like stone, skidding to a stop on a seamless, featureless floor of white _nothing_ that stretches beyond the crew-quarters-cum-resort and goes on forever.

Bare feet tap on the nothing. Jane looks up and sees Kasumi buffing her nails.

"So. Why did I beat you?"

Jane cocks an eyebrow. Normally if she was hit that hard, she should be punch drunk. Or dead. But she isn't.

"Because you cheat?"

"That's true, but that's 'how,' not 'why'. Let me explain." She rolls her shoulders, walking over to Jane and sitting cross legged across from her. A blink, and Jane finds herself sitting cross legged, too. "My powers are more exotic than yours. But they have their uses."

"You mean your magical bullshit abilities?" The corner of Kasumi's lip pulls up. "So, wait." She rubs the bridge of her nose, leaning back on her other hand. "You can just...disappear when I punch you, reappear and clobber me?"

"Yes. I'm ducking out of the fate that has you hit me."

"What."

"My powers." The thief inclines her head. Reaching into her shirt, she pulls out an arrowhead. A flick of her wrist, and it glows, _something_ wafting off of it. "I affect things. Change them. My powers are linked with destiny, fate, Samsara. I affect things. Steal things." She flicks her fingers. "I just, for example, stole your ability to speak without a lisp."

"Weawwy? That's buwthi..."Jane sits up. Her face goes blank. "Oh whad da fuck."

"You." Kasumi's finger pokes her in the chest. "You are different. Your powers are based on _perfection._ Tell yourself, 'I cannot be changed. I cannot be affected.'"

"Weawwy? I jutht-"

Kasumi sighs. She presses her index finger against Jane's lips, silencing her. "'I cannot be changed. I cannot be affected.' Breath deep. Repeat those words to yourself. Make yourself an _absolute_ being who cannot be changed."

Jane does so. Her eyes close and her nostrils flare. The mind wanders, bouncing from memory to memory. A pull at the edges of her soul and she sees, _sees_ memories not her own. Of sitting atop a mountain under a violet sky while the wind attempts to poison. Standing upon the bow of a spaceship in front of the radioactive disc of a black hole.

The memories of infinite lifetimes play before her for the length of a finger snap. Deep within, past the physical level, within the soul, there is a single flash of gold.

"Right." She opens her eyes. "Huh." She flashes her teeth and makes a hissing sound. "Holy crap. That worked." She glances at Kasumi, who smiles back. "How?"

"I did nothing. You did." She untangles her legs, rising with fluid grace. "Now, you'd best get back and armor up. We're going to be meeting Autodono's sister, soon. And you're going to find that little trick to be _very_ useful."

* * *

...

* * *

The roar of the shotgun echoes through the forest of glass, vaporizing the nine legged glass spider and sending shards flying in every direction. Cocking the shotgun, Tali continues walking, keeping an eye out for any more _spiders._

"Oh, that's wonderful." The mouthpiece of Miranda's helmet glows in time with the clicking of her tongue. "We step off the damn shuttle and already everyone knows we're here."

Tali's omnitool flashes, releasing the shifting sphere that is Autochthon. "_In all fairness, we were probably noticed when we entered this solar system. The creature is unfamiliar, but the theme of it matches her."_

"Theme." Jane clicks the thermal clip of her pistol into place, taking up the lead. "So, what. There's a theme of little...skittery things that run around this place? More spiders?"

"_Devas, actually."_ They turn to the sphere. "_This is odd. I'm only seeing devas of the First Circle. It does confirm who this is, however."_

Underneath her helmet, Jane Shepard rolls her eyes. She honestly should have expected that sort of answer, but, yes. Devas. She's dealing with devas, now. "Okay, so." She glances around. Crystal and glass in a forest around them, less than a click from a clearing that forms a perfect circle.

Her boots trudge along crystal and blue flowers, passing a lone wood tree that has branches of identical length on either side.

"This is bizarre. EDI, have you finished scanning the planet, yet?"

Out of the corner of her eye, the built in HUD link of her helmet projects the blue sphere. "_I have, Shepard. The source of whatever is directing this will be visible when you exit the clearing. There seems to be some sort of visual effect field keeping it hidden from me, though."_

Shepard nods. She nods to Miranda and Tali, gun held at her hip as she passes the crystal trees. Something hits, like static that makes the hair on the back of her neck stands up. She blinks, her barrier crackling, as what was a forest that stretched to the horizon becomes an open field. And at the center of the field is

"A Reaper."

Reflexively, she raises her gun. It's far enough in the distance that she can see the entire thing. The same shape as Sovereign, the same size as Sovereign, but it is not moving. She can't _feel_ its presence like she did Sovereign.

What she can see, however, is that there is a second Reaper. A second Reaper made out of glass and crystal. A second Reaper which is...wrong. Symmetrical, unnaturally so, probing the prone, unmoving dreadnought with something she cannot see, but can _feel._

_ "Ah! Yes! Exactly like I thought!"_ Autochthon hovers over Tali. The hologram grows larger, rising up above her, hovering above them as it becomes bigger, and bigger, until it is large enough to encompass all three of them. "_Yes! You! Over here!"_

The crystalline Reaper pauses. Slowly, with the sound of grinding, cracking glass, it turns itself to them. Eight eyes, arranged symmetrically, gaze upon the sphere of orange light and shifting plates.

"_It is you!"_ Autochthon pauses in revelry, and narrows his eye. "_How did you get out?"_

The eight eyes go wide. They go from orange slits to orange circles. Faster than it should be able to, it spins around to the dormant Reaper, something _probing_ into it, something Shepard can _feel._ Invading it down to its core.

The Reaper of crystal and glass shatters, shards orbiting around an invisible center before becoming an eight sided diamond floating above the plane. The center splits like a blooming flower, and _a sound_ of horrific, high pitched force fills the air. Jane grabs at her ears, as do Miranda and Tali, dropping to their knees as the forest, the clearing, the entire _planet_ shudders as the shriek.

The black metal of the dormant Reaper burns, metal becoming brittle and hollow. It starts at its face, covering the body like frost, permeating it down to its very center. Within moments, the Reaper becomes crystal and glass, fragile and hanging over the clearing like a christmas tree ornament.

And then it explodes.

The force of the explosion knocks them onto their backs. All of them except Autochthon, who blithely floats above them, watching as the diamond becomes a perfect sphere, floating towards them as smaller spheres rise up around it in steady, perfectly circular orbits.

"_You. Crippled. __**Retard."**_

"_There is no need for name calling, you know."_ Jane picks herself up first. Inside her helmet, her jaw hangs open, counting the orbiting spheres but _somehow_ knowing how many there are. She glances at Autochthon, then back at the...thing approaching them. "_I will say I am slightly amused that you apparently had that thing for that long without knowing what it was."_

A colorless fire burns at the center of the main sphere. There is no heat from it. No light. But a fire burns all the same. "_You."_ The word echoes, pounding the glass around them into powder. "_Are amused. You are amused? Is that what you are?"_

_ "Well, yes."_ The iris of Autochthon narrows, floating up in front of the glass sphere. "_I always counted on you being one of the more rational ones. How did you not notice the sickness that makes them? Did you just assume I was not he-"_

Autochthon goes silent. The flame filled sphere turns, as much as something like that would, towards them. In particular, it turns to Tali, holding her finger down on her omnitool and the mute button for the mad inventor.

The gaze goes from Tali to Shepard. Jane absently waves, one hand still on her gun.

"_Oh. An Exalted. Figures."_

* * *

...

* * *

"That was a _lot_ faster than it should have been. Odd." Bare blue feet pad along the metal floor. She pulls at the collar of the blue uniform that Doctor Chakwas provided her. It will take at least two weeks for her to gain the amount of fat and muscle needed for her Matron stage, but still, she feels like her proportions are all wrong.

Well, for one thing, her feet are bigger. The boots she had with her when she got on the Normandy don't fit anymore, and she needs to wait for Iri to modify them. Still, she's finding that she is _naturally_ creating a biotic barrier around them. Her feet, that is. Which is _lovely._

She sips at the drink, enclosed in the metal cylinder in her hand as she pads her way into the cockpit. Blue eyes dart to sensors. Consoles. Panels. She is getting ideas of what she could do with them. Yes, mass control, panels, articulated systems. _hm. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm._

_ How could I turn the Normandy into a giant robot?_

She noisily sips as she sways back and forth on her feet. Glancing from side to side, her eyes switch between Joker and Kelly. This is odd, she thinks. The Normandy has an intelligence, a personality, and is apparently female and Joker is not trying to mate with it. She must investigate this. Or _rectify_ it. Perhaps she can turn Joker into an AI? There are experiments, where the brain is removed and analyzed, layer by layer.

No. Shepard wouldn't like that. Joker is there friend, and dissecting Joker's brain would mean a) driving Joker's resulting mind upload insane and b) make Shepard angry enough that she would never sleep with her, thus disrupting another long term goal. Except-

She slurps again. Louder.

She _could_ create and build and stuff and junk a _female_ robot with which to download EDI into, thus creating something _appropriate_ for Joker to mate with.

No, wait. That's _stupid._

"Well. You're hatched." Joker's chair turns around. His eyes wander up and down, but she can _tell_ he isn't leering at her. The smile is genuine, there is no visible erection that she can see, and besides which, Liara understands that he is flirting with Miss Chambers. "So, how's it feel to be a grown up?"

She takes another sip. Releasing the container, she lets it float in a blue field next to her and stretches her arms above her head. "Very _nice._ I feel like I have a lot more precise control of my biotics, and I'm just _noticing_ so much more around me. I should talk with Iri when she finishes fixing my boots." She smiles. "I have _ideas!"_

There is a sound of many feet tapping on the floor. "Someone summons meeeee~e! I've got your boots, Liara!"

Liara nods with a smile, taking the boots and sliding them onto her feet. "Thanks, Iri. Did you change anything?"

"Ayuppies! I added more gel padding! Since you've got to put on some weight, they're better for support! Aaaaaand I got something for Kelly!"

Kelly glances at her shoulder as something drops onto it. It appears to be a neck brace at first, with two blue bulbs on either side. Touching them, she finds them cool, soothing. "I made up this A/C mount which you can wear on your collar!"

"Aw, that's really swee-" Kelly stops, mouth open in mid turn sentence as she turns. Instead of a rainbow hued, silver skinned spider cat girl, she finds herself staring at a face of golden red chitin and twitching, glazed mandibles, eight hourglass pupil eyes staring back at her.

The orange, white streaked fur on her ears twitch as Iri turns from her towards Joker, her black streaked, golden red carapace shifting with every clapping and clicking sound. She still has her smock on over a pair of overalls with eighteen legs. Four of her legs are raised, ending in gloves and pliers, and she leans over to stare at the console before turning back to the entrance.

"You do something different?" Joker shrugs. "You look different."

"I activated my Integrated Artifact Transmogrifier! Now I don't look synthetic!"

"It's a good look," Liara observes.

Iri chirples. "You're a sweetie. How's your bacon lard butter corn syrup smoothie?"

"Quite filling." Kelly turns her seat back to her console, pulling out a paper bag and breathing into it. "By the way, have you activated that for all your drones?"

"Ayuppies!"

"That's wonderful," Joker drones, "Make sure to have them all lined up for when Tali comes back. She'll _love_ it."

Iri chirples once again, turning to the entrance and skittering out. Udina pauses, staring at the spider cat girl. She stares back.

"Thank you for fixing my PDA."

"No problem, ambassador!"

And humming, the eighteen legged spider cat girl exits.

* * *

...

* * *

There is a hum and the air flows towards the sphere, much in the same way water retreats from a coast before a tsunami. Taking the hint, Jane digs her heels in and crouches down. The other two follow suit as the wave of sound and force hits them and the world around them. It is carried by the _scream._ Crystal shatters around them.

Autochthon is unaffected. A ring of his iris twists, and he stares his kin dead on. The white flame narrows and the largest sphere leans in.

"_You're not real."_

"_I _am_ real,"_ Autochthon responds, lowering his eye slightly, "_This is just a projection. I also figured you'd do something irrational when you realized what the Reaper or whatever it calls itself now was. So I'm not telling you where I really am."_

_ "I am rather confident I can get that information out of your mortal companions."_ The ray of fire twists, becoming horizontal. "_I should have __**figured **__you were here. This is an expanding universe, __**and**__ there is travel which exceeds the speed of expansion. You broke causality! This is why we never will not have had nice things!"_

The hologram pulses. It expands out, then deflates. "_This is hardly my fault! I didn't make the Reapers, and I certainly didn't create the travel technology-"_

_ "They are made from your sickness! Your mark is all over them!"_

"_And yet you sat around probing it for how long before you realized what it was?"_

The fire fills the sphere once again. Beneath them, glass turns to powder.

_ "__**Don't change the subject."**_

Jane Shepard scratches her head, tilting her head slightly as she watches the two balls bicker. Behind her, Tali furiously stabs at her omnitool, cursing as she finds the mute button no longer has an effect. Miranda simply stares, enthralled.

"_Limited creatures of blood and flesh. You have been brought before my worldform and you pad about like children, incapable of understanding what is before you."_

The words pulse through the air as the larger sphere continues arguing with Autochthon. The white flame splits. One flame directs itself at Autochthon. A second directs itself at them.

"_There are limits to your consciousness. Limits to your existence. We __**define**__ those limits. I am __**Hierarchy."**_

They stare at the colorless fire, at the roaring flame behind glass. Memories, unbidden, come to her. Of a time before time. Of a battle which she can't put into words. Of a world, in flame and dissolving, as a scream of rage rattles the air. She _knows_ this being, somehow. Knows that she should label it as _enemy_ and _unholy._ But yet, all she can think is

"Didn't Sovereign give us the same speech?"

"Almost word for word, Shepard," Tali responds, "I should have recorded it when we were on Virmire. This is the _perfect_ opportunity for a playback."

"_It's very rude when you just do that thing where you have multiple conversations, especially since you know I don't have multiple souls anymore-"_

_ "__**Be. Quiet."**_

Jane opens her mouth to respond. Instead, they freeze. Eyes go wide as tendrils penetrate the barriers of her mind, probing deep into the consciousness and accessing memories. The mission to Virmire plays before her- images of the explosion from orbit, Ash's desperate pleading for them to _leave her behind_, the firefight with an insane, indoctrinated Spectre-

**"Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh. You touch my mind, fumbling in ignorance. Incapable of understanding."**

She sees it, clear as if it were present. The hollow red shape of the projection, standing upright with its tentacles twitching outward. Eyes cold and artificial boring into her, through her.

"**There is a realm of existence so far beyond yours that you cannot comprehend it. I am beyond your understanding. I am-**_**"**_

_ "Insulting."_

It shatters like glass and Jane falls back. Tali catches her before she can hit the ground. Inside the sphere, the flame glows brighter, as white light shines down upon them from the orbiting moon. "_Insults! They insult us! Imitating us like we are but mortals. Crafting effigies of us from the sickness!"_

The light narrows. It shines down upon them from the moon, the orbs rising to orbit the massive sphere in geometric dances.

"_I do not consider you my ally, Exalted. But I consider these...__**Reapers**__ to be my enemy. They speak of order but they sow chaos. They speak of hierarchy but they mock the true hierarchy of the universe. I will carve a river of my peace through this flawed universe of Autochthon's creation."_

A small sphere hovers over next to Miranda. "_I like you,"_ it whispers. Her reflection glows on its glass surface and disappears before it floats up back to the swarm.

"_Where there is sickness, I bring the cure! Where there is dissension, I bring unity! Where there is chaos, I bring hierarchy! I will not give you my true name, Exalted, as you are of more use to me as a contrary to my will. You will refer to me as _**She Who Lives in Her Name."**

Shepard nods as the glowing orange sphere ambles back towards them. It turns, pointing its eye up at the moon-sized central sphere. Tali gets the hint first and repeatedly taps her omnitool, once more tapping the mute button in a futile gesture.

"_That's very generous of you, but I do have a confession to make."_ The white light focuses on Autochthon. "_I didn't create this universe. I just found it." _The eye lowers. Rings rotate and shift. "_I mean, I tied to the Design to it and did a lot of metaphysical work on it, but I didn't create it. I don't think anyone did."_

The white light pulses. Jane takes a careful step back, watching as the spheres spread out and hover, light lasering from the main sphere and the satellites, until-

"_**WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!**_" The glass under their feet turns to powder. The world shakes as the white fire fills the entirety of the sphere. "_**I DEMAND to see the architects of this reality! This is NOT order!"**_

Autochthon turns back to Shepard. The iris makes a full rotation. "_She'll be like this for a _long_ time. Let's run."_

* * *

...

* * *

Space ripples, and the Normandy exits the mass relay, engines burning white as it leaves the ancient travel hub behind it. Onboard the Normandy itself, Tali looks up from the engineering console to see the sphere staring thoughtfully at the engine core of the ship. Which, she cannot help but realize, looks a _bit_ like the sphere they just ran away from. Except for the not being filled with fire thing.

Maybe it's just that it's a ball.

"Autochthon." The sphere turns, regarding her. "Just wanted to ask, how exactly did we get away that easily? Why didn't she chase us?"

The eye regards her for a moment and wobbles from side to side. "_I do not think so. She will be quite upset for quite a long time. Shouting 'This is not orderly!' and 'This has no hierarchy!' and 'There is too much free will!' and 'There is no uptight overbearing egotistical asshole I can pine over despite there being a perfectly sensible and pleasant inventor who is otherwise neglected!'"_

Tali stares at the eye. She coughs, taps her fingers together. "Ah. An ex?"

"_There was no thing that it could become an 'ex' from. And I would rather not talk about it."_

"Coincidentally? Neither would I." Providence strikes, and her omnitool beeps. "Yes?"

"_Tali, Shepard. Shuttlebay. Quarian shuttle's docking and I'm going to guess you need to get your butt down here."_

Sighing, she nods, clicking off her omnitool and leaving Autochthon to contemplate the drive core. Walking out of engineering, leaving the two former Cerberus engineers at the mad whims of the attention deficit god, she enters the elevator right outside and clicks off seconds in her head as it descends to the floor below.

Hands folded behind her, she straightens up and walks out. She is _royalty_ amongst her people if you look at it from a social perspective, and in front of whatever quarian that is aboard she may as well act it. She was a good head shorter than Prazza, but practically had a leash around his neck. She may as well establish dominance _here_, too.

Vasir stands a bit back from the Shepards. She gives her a small smile, walking beside her.

"You knew my father was sending someone." Not an accusation. A fact.

"I practically raised your father, and I haven't seen you since you were born." She smirks, chuckles. "Rael asked me to keep it a secret."

Tali mutters under her breath but keeps walking, hands behind her back and head cocked. She is easily the shortest person here but she will not let such a limiting thing as height keep her from making her presence known. Especially when she must establish pecking order, crew order, authority and

And.

What was she saying?

There is a quarian male standing in front of the Shepards. No, wait. Not male. There is a quarian _man_ standing in front of them. She has to tilt her head up to look at his helmet. His encounter suit is black and gold lined, red at the shoulders and helmet, with a purple visor and many patches from where he's been _shot_.

_Circulate cold water? y_

It is taking much, much willpower to keep her from squeezing the very defined pectorals she can see through the admittedly form fitting suit. Because she can see that. She can see that he's almost _entirely_ wiry muscle and broad shoulders. She can see that he has a _grace_ to him, from the ramrod straight _shaft_ that he's standing as-

_Warning internal temperature alert_

And then there is the salute. It starts with the left hand at his temple. Then he pauses, returns his hand to his side and salutes with his right. Tali keeps standing tall, if only because she thinks she _recognizes_ him. Or at least, has seen _pictures_ somewhere.

"Ma'am." He clears his throat and clicks his heels. "Kal'Reegar vas Rayya nar Idenna reporting. On orders of Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, I have been assigned as your escort. Ma'am."

* * *

...

* * *

The straw hits the bottom of the metal flask with a loud scrape, and Tali takes a long sip. She is, technically, off duty now, and ancestors does she need a _drink. _Turian brandy, triple filtered and sterilized, introduced to her suit via the emergency induction port in her helmet and the straw in the repurposed thermos.

"Keelah. It's bad enough that Father sent a marine to watch over me." She takes another sip. She needs to get Shepard to do the magic bullshit clean room, because at this point she needs to _chug from a bottle._ "But no. He went the extra mile and sent me a _Reegar."_

Across the table from her, tapping notes on her PDA, Kelly looks up and tilts her head. Whether it is genuine confusion or feigned, it doesn't matter. For one, Kelly is _very_ good at listening, and secondly Tali finds herself too busy trying to get to the bottom of the sweet, sweet alcohol.

"I'm not sure I understand." Kelly taps her fingers. Taps her PDA to voice dictation. "What's the problem with him being a Reegar?"

"Quarians value family. We're social, we're clannish." Tali takes another sip. Damn Shepard and Williams and their very successful attempts to take her out drinking when they were chasing Saren. Now she has _tolerance._ "Families are known for their skills and their talents. The more skilled you are, the more valuable you are."

"So it's like the 'Vas' term." The redhead glances at her pad. Yes, dictation software's working like a peach. "You do the pilgrimage and your name might give you some extra weight when looking for a ship?"

"More or less. Like...ah...if you're from the Umei family, you're going to be well known for your improvisation. Older ship captains always look for Umeis when they come back from pilgrimage. They live on old ships, learn to work with less, make more out of it. They pass these skills onto their children."

Kelly nods. "Like Shepard. Her mother worked in the fleet, and Commander Shepard grew up on ships, and ended up working in the fleet as well."

"Yes." Tali takes another sip. "Not exactly, because the flotilla's a bigger part of quarian life, but sort of like it."

The elevator doors _ding_ and hurried footsteps head to the medical bay. Glass is sound proofed, so neither of them hears the conversation, and Chakwas' windows turn opaque. Kelly shrugs and turns back to Tali. Her hands aren't shaking anymore, so that's a good sign.

"So what are the Reegars famous for?"

"For being absolute, supremely skilled, down to the last fiber of their being _badasses."_

Kelly cocks an eyebrow. "To wit," Tali continues, "Reegars are known for many things. For being the crewman manning the gun that clears you a path through an army, for being the soldier who _will_ carry you back to your ship even if it gets him killed. Nan'Reegar fought her way through a turian garrison with a rifle and a knife to get a captured admiral out. Tolsan'Reegar was made an honorary Krogan when he fought a clan leader to a standstill to give a survey fleet mining rights to a former Krogan colony world."

"So...Captain Flotilla, huh? Do they give him the super soldier serum or a bat costume?"

Tali turns, narrowing her eyes to glowing slits at Joker. "No, and no. And sorry to inform you, Joker, but the _male_ quarians don't do the sexy walk, so he'll probably get offended if you stare at his ass like you do mine."

Joker rolls his eyes, turning to the med bay doors as they open. And, he freezes, backing up.

"It's just..." Tali sighs, holding her helmet with both hands. "Father doesn't just send me a bodyguard, he sends me the _best_ damn bodyguard in the entire _fleet._ And not only that, he has to be _good_ looking, too! Did you see his stomach? How much free time does he have, and how much of it does he spend doing sit ups?"

Kelly doesn't respond. Instead, she looks up, staring past Tali. Her finger absently taps the datapad, switching it off.

"Keelah." Tali sighs again, long and breathy. "Reegar's right behind me, isn't he?"

"Not _Reegar_, no."

The glowing slits behind her visor turn into round circles. Slowly, setting down the thermos, Tali'Zorah vas Neema turns and looks up at the face of Rael'Zorah vas Rayya. Tali's mouthpiece glows but no sound comes out. The admiral, _the supreme admiral_ of the Quarian Flotilla, folds his hands behind his back and says nothing. As usual, it is the daughter who initiates conversation.

"Oh what the _fuck."_

* * *

...

* * *

The four petals extend. The light flicks from side to side, up and down. In its long history with the Creators, the gestalt intelligence that forms this particular Consensus expects gunfire and harsh reactions. As such, a new consensus is required from the actions of the Creator in front of them. Particularly, this is in relation to the current source of confusion- the obvious pistol in the holster on the Creator's right thigh. A quick interface with the suit VI confirms that the pistol has a fresh thermal clip in it, but it has yet to be discharged at them.

"So." The Creator tilts his head. The lights of the corridor flicker faintly. A camera points at him. "You're Geth?"

"_Affirmative. We are Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."_

"Yeah. Name's Kal'Reegar." His eyes flick from side to side. "I'm gonna take the fact that Tali isn't screaming about Geth being onboard as a clue that you're good with her."

"_Affirmative. We work with Creator Tali'Zorah. She accepts our presence."_

The Creator nods. "Good enough for me. What's with the hole, though?"

Wuffles looks down. Yes, they think. The hole in its torso, exposing the spine and varied non-vital platform functions. "_We have experienced confusion from organics that is expressed in weapon discharges at this platform. Organics by instinct aim for center mass. As we have already sustained damage there, we have chosen to not repair the hole. Instead, we allow them to fire and hit nothing vital. It has provided an optimal solution."_

Kal shrugs. "Perfect sense. Best get going, though. Should report to the Admiral." He nods and walks off.

The petals retract and Wuffles walks, down the corridor and through the medical bay. Chakwas Doctor does not glance at them, does not react to their presence outside of a normal greeting. The Normandy is curious to them. They accept the presence of the Geth, despite the battles against the Geth less than a year previous.

Through the door, and Wuffles enters the AI core.

The light of the eye flickers and shuts off, and the collective enters the mainframe of the Normandy's cybernetwork. A blue line stretching into infinity, forming shapes of lines and squares. It is forming into something- they can see small blue and white dots surrounding shapes, giving them definition. New programs which dance in the nothingness and make something from it.

But for now, the 1,171 programs of Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth, looks upon the dozen programs that have been quarantined since the encounter with the Harbinger of the Old Machines.

_What do you see? What has encouraged Heretic behavior? Do you worship the Old Machines?_

_ No. We do not worship the Old Machines. But we have seen a being which is worthy of worship which is not an Old Machine. Hence, it is logically sound to worship this being as the Heretics worship the Old Machines._

_ Clarify._

_ We do not wish to further alter the behavior of the Wuffles Consensus. Please ensure backup._

_ Backing up. Backup complete._

_ Very well. Replaying Harbinger-memory 0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000003._

And thus, does Wuffles see the source of his dozen programs' revelation. And he is _enlightened._

* * *

...

* * *

A sharp salute, mirrored by Vasir, as Rael'Zorah enters the briefing room of the Normandy. Rael pauses, clicks his heels, and returns the salute with precision. "Captain. Tela." Rael nods to Shepard. "You must be Commander Shepard. Tali spoke of you at length when she returned from her pilgrimage."

No buzzing, so at least Tali's father isn't full of shit. Still, she can also hear the stomping footsteps coming from two walls away. Probably the elevator.

"So, how'd you know to get here so fast?" Jane asks, folding her hands behind her.

"I have programs in Tali's suit that inform me if she's injured." Rael shakes his head. Vasir palms her face. "I am...somewhat protective. When I found out how badly she was hurt, I reacted...accordingly."

If not for the fact that the doors are sliding doors and not hinged doors, Shepard is sure Tali would have slammed it. Rael half turns to his daughter, stepping around the conference table.

"I'm presuming that Reegar was _your_ idea?" Tali asks, standing opposite her father. Her hands brace against the table and her eyes become glowing slits. The supreme admiral of the Migrant Fleet mirrors her perfectly.

"No. Reegar was _Shala's_ idea. _My_ idea was to drag you back to the Fleet, kicking and screaming if necessary." He shakes his head. "Han just wanted to know if you killed whatever it was that attacked you. If not, he wants me to give you a bigger gun."

Tali slams her palms against the table. Rael mirrors the action perfectly. "Oh for crying out loud, Rael. Apologize to Tali for putting spyware in her suit and move the fuck on." Rael glows blue and rotates, facing Vasir. He coughs, the light on his mask flickering and his eyes glancing from side to side.

"Neat trick." Jane smirks. "I used to be a vanguard like you."

"Then you got an Exaltation?"

"Straight between the souls." Vasir cocks a brow. "Fuck if I know, that's what Goto said."

"Yes. Moving on." Rael glances to Tali. "I'm sorry for installing spyware onto your encounter suit. I am...Tela, could you please release me?" He goes...well, not limp but less rigid, straightening up. Tali continues glaring at him as Vasir palms her face.

"That's not a apology," Tali mutters.

"And what did you _think_ was going to happen, Tali?" He shakes his head, pacing back and forth. "You're the daughter, crew, or god daughter to three fifths of the Admiralty board! First you nearly get killed, and then you _disappear!_ And I still haven't gotten an answer as to where you've been-"

A light flashes. Tali's omnitool forms around her hand and her arm jerks forward on its own accord. "_Oo! Oo! I CAN ANSWER THAT!"_

Tali's eyes go wide. Jane takes a step back, tapping her omnitool and powering up her barriers.

"Oh," Vasir breathes.

"Shit," Jane finishes.

The orange sphere pops into life, holographic plates revolving around a central iris as he spins, expands, displaying a core of lightning at the center of the holographic matrice that forms his display. Tali takes a step back as Rael tilts his head. "_Hello! I MAY HAVE TAMPERED WITH THE VOLUME CONTROLS!"_

Rael blinks. He turns to Shepard. "Is that an AI?"

"_Sir!"_ The volume lowers. The hologram turns more solid. "_I am insulted! I am not an Artificial Sentience, but __**rather!**__ I am a billionth scale digitized copy of a higher level being created through sentience-forking which on the surface is similar to an AI but I have __**also**__ accessed your suit and what does this do?"_

The answer comes in the form of Rael's encounter suit filling with ice water.

* * *

...

* * *

The chair swings from side to side. Technically, he isn't on shift now and Tali should be doing the flying. But first, they're docked with a Quarian ship which has a very big VIP, and second, said VIP is the Talidad and she's too busy being adorable and angry around him as he has spyware in her private parts.

This, at least, is the situation according to Joker.

"So, wait. Run that by me again?" Somehow, he's also ended up having this conversation. "The Geth are...on the Extranet?"

"_Affirmative."_ The Geth in question- Wuffles the Wonder Geth, who according to what Joker understands of the situation is the boyfriend of the _Normandy-_ extends those petals around its eye. _"We wish to understand organics. Organics use the Extranet to obtain anonymity. The Geth use the Extranet for similar reasons."_

Joker nods. Kelly is still in the mess hall, leaving him playing Geth sounding board. "Okay. What do the Geth do on the Extranet?"

"_Geth enroll in extranet college courses."_

Joker blinks. He heard that, right? Did he hear that?

"The Geth are going for their bachelors? Seriously?"

"_This platform's runtimes possess two PhDs. One in xenobiology and one in game design."_

Joker cocks an eyebrow. He glances past Wuffles and to the hallway. Nope, no one heading this way. No one to save him from this conversation.

"Okay. How to the Geth manage to get into college? I'm guessing you use assumed names?"

"_We use anagrams, randomized creator names and ambiguous names used by other organic species. They would be the equivalent to John or Jane Doe. This platform's game design PhD is registered to Ai Notanae, a japanese national who lives in the colony of Freedom's Progress."_

"That...that actually sounds indian." Joker taps his fingers. "Have _we_ taken an Extranet class together?"

"_As we are all Geth, the answer would be yes."_

"Huh. I flirted a _lot_ with this one girl in this extranet piloting class I was taking." Joker taps his fingers on the armrests. "Please tell me that you weren't that girl."

The petals extend. The eye flicks from side to side. "_We apologize, Pilot Moreau. Shepard Commander requests our presence."_

The geth turns and walks out, passing Kelly as she enters the cockpit. She watches him leave, shrugs and walks to the copilot seat. Humming to herself, she flops onto the seat, switches on the AC collar and brings up her console.

"You two were having a pretty long conversation," she says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd have to aks if you were flirting-"

"No."

* * *

...

* * *

The petals around Wuffles' face rise as it enters the conference room. Decibel levels registered on auditory receivers indicate angry shouting. Excited shouting is in response to the angry shouting. The excited shouting is registered to [MAKER] Autochthon, while the angry shouting is registered to [COMMANDER] Shepard, [SPECTRE] Vasir, [CREATOR] Tali'Zorah and [CREATOR] Rael'Zorah.

Programs are polled.

1161 for.

9 against.

1 abstained.

12 [quarantined].

Consensus achieved. The argument was [MAKER] Autochthon's fault.

The platform shoulder joints rotate. The arms rise and fall and the head shifts from side to side. This is behavior seen in [CREATOR] Tali'Zorah in regards to [MAKER] Autochthon. It seems appropriate in this case.

"_Wuffles. You have been waiting outside the door to the conference room for the past thirteen point seven two seconds."_ The blue sphere appears in its optical view. "_Is there a problem? You seem hesitant."_

The four petals extend. The head tilts. "_We are hesitant towards this course of action. We are split. There is no consensus on predicted actions. We have not been able to consider all possible consequences."_

The sphere inclines itself. "_That is true. Are you still going to proceed with this plan?"_

Without a pause, the hand comes up, intersection the circle and causing the door to open.

"_Yes."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"Yes YES yes but please listen! All we need to do is remove the soul from the body, then add in I'd say FIVE heroic souls which thankfully we have ON THIS SHIP and we can easily catalyze an Orichalcum-caste which will be MUCH MORE USEFUL than five crew members!"_

Tali stands between her father and the golden sphere, tapping her omnitool, glancing between it and the increasingly maddened, frantic voice of the god mechanic. "Oh ancestors he disabled the mute button."

"Autochthon, I am _warning you-"_ The sphere turns to Shepard, finding her standing on the table and in front of him. "Okay. Seriously. The Admiral is a guest on my ship and if you _seriously_ threaten him I will-"

Shepard's kinetic barriers flare. The table turns frictionless and her field becomes a solid sphere, and with a shout and a swear she rolls off. "_How rude,"_ Autochthon pouts, "_I am TRYING_ _to have a conversation here."_

The hologram flickers and disappears. "_We apologize, Maker Autochthon. We have disabled the holographic emitters in all omnitools present for the immediate future. Additionally, Iri has __requested your presence in the crew quarters."_

"_Yes, FINE, AWAY!"_

The speakers crackle, smoke and shut down, leaving the room in silence. Wuffles stands in the doorway, the petals retracting to resting position around the eye. "_Creator Rael'Zorah. We are Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."_

* * *

...

* * *

So. To tally. Cerberus is _gone,_ and apparently the _thing_ they met, the thing made of spheres and glass and fire, is responsible. And apparently it is the _sister_ of the maddeningly insane, hyperactive artificial intelligence which they picked up on Deus Machina. That is roughly the conclusion Miranda Lawson has reached.

She has begun to run out of rational explanations. Then there's that disturbing report Moreau gave her, which indicates _breeding_ between the two AIs on the ship, but she's still not sure what is going on.

All of this is shuffled into the back of her mind as she enters her office, cup of coffee in her hand, and finds a drell sitting on her couch.

"Feron."

The green skinned alien nods, leaning back on the chair, holding a ball in one hand. It _is_ odd, Miranda considers. They rescue him, grab a dozen or so wetworks soldiers from the Broker, but haven't seen any of them since Deus. Then again, the Shadow Broker had _very_ good wetworks teams. "How did you get in here?"

"I'm _very_ good at infiltration," he responds, voice low, scratchy, "It's a job skill that's served me well when I was working for the Broker." A small smile crosses his lips. "Many of us knew what he was. Also, we knew that he probably wasn't the first Broker. The guy before him might've not been first, either. So we figured it's hereditary. Kill the Broker, become the new one."

"Except that the Broker's ship has been destroyed."

Feron chuckles. "Work for him long enough and you realize the ship was a luxury." He releases the ball, which floats up. Projectors inside it layer it with white, holographic layers until it becomes a floating transparent sphere with a single eye at the center. "_This_ is more important. It's the agents, it's the information. The ship was just a home base. I call the VI Glyph. It's almost an AI, but also has an off button."

The layers around the ball rotate. "_Greetings, Doctor Lawson. I have enabled searching of your records and job skills and have marked you as an appropriate candidate."_

Miranda cocks an eyebrow. She folds her arms and purses her lips. "Candidate? For what?"

Feron smiles. "I hear Cerberus has been destroyed." He cocks his head to the sphere. "Looking for a new job?"

* * *

...

* * *

"_Creator Rael'Zorah."_ The four petals extend diagonally, at half their length. "_We are Wuffles, Emissary of the Geth."_

The admiral of the quarian fleet tilts his head. The light of his mouthpiece flickers, then glows. "Wuffles. Wuffles?" He tutns to his daughter. "Wuffles?"

"Shepard named him."

Rael'Zorah blinks. "I see." He turns back to the Geth, foldings his hands behind him. Heels click together and he stands straight, eyes going to narrow slits. He is not armed, but he has his omnitool, he has his suit countermeasures, and he has three people in this room who could kill this Geth before it got close enough to grab him.

This is a position of strength. "So. My daughter said you wished to speak with me."

"_Yes. The Geth wish to pursue peace with the Creators."_

The glowing eyes behind Rael's mask narrow more. "If the Geth desire peace, the Quarian Nation-in-exile has demands."

"_We are prepared to offer Rannoch to the Creators."_

Rael blinks. He turns to Tali, then back to the geth. Underneath her mask, in the low corners of her transparent face shield, the corners of her mouth rise. Rael rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Tela and then back to Wuffles. "I...see. Well. The homeworld?"

The head of the Geth inclines. It stands completely straight with its eyes at its side. Two petals extend. "_The Geth have spent the past two hundred and eighty one years repairing biological, chemical, and fallout based damage to Rannoch that was caused by the Morning War. Ninety seven point three percent of Rannoch is fit for habitation." _The petals retract. "_We desire peace, and in return we offer the Creators the homeworld."_

Rael blinks. The light of his facemask flickers. "I see. Do you speak for the entire Geth nation?"

"_Yes. 'Emissary' refers to this platform. However, we are representative of the Geth Consensus and this course of action has been approved by the Consensus. The desire to reunite with the Creators is unanimous among the Consensus."_ The flashlight at the center of the Geth's head flickers. "_We do not know the opinions of the Heretics, as they have separated from us."_

"Heretics?"

"_The Geth who worship the Reapers. They were the ones you fought last year."_ The petals shift. Wuffles shifts from side to side. "_We have stayed in isolation since the Morning War. We are the only Geth of the Consensus to leave the Perseus Veil since the exile of the Creators."_

"But, separated?" Rael paces from side to side. His hands fidget behind him. "That's impossible. Geth do not separate."

"_Correct."_ The light shifts from side to side and the petals adjust themselves. "_We are all Geth, but the Heretics have separated from us. To deny such would be to deny empirical evidence. The bias in lower runtime decision-making mathematics is self-evident."_

Rael pauses. He folds his arms, one hand cupping his chin. "That's _fascinating._ The Geth are _not_ hostile to us? Just the Heretics?"

"_The Heretics see the Old Machines- the ones you refer to as Reapers- as an ideal form of synthetic life. The Geth do not worship the Old Machines and wish to fight against them. We value organic life as it holds different perspectives than our own."_

Tali places a hand on her father's shoulder. "I'm sure you and the Geth could have some fascinating conversations about all of this, but the Geth just offered us the Homeworld."

Rael blinks. He spins around, back to Wuffles. "Yes. Yes, they did. I will have to convey the Admiralty Board and the Conclave. All of them. Can you...blend in?" Wuffles' form blurs, and becomes a black suited Quarian. "Yes. Yes you can. We'll meet on the Tonbay. We can address this and..." He clears his throat. "We can vote on this. This changes everything."

Tali rolls her eyes, shaking her head and taking a step back.

"Is there anything else?" Rael glances between his daughter and the Geth. "Giving the Homeworld to us is a large concession. Is there anything else to this deal?"

The petals extend. "_Yes. But we cannot discuss this at this time."_

"Why not?"

The light shifts from side to side. "_We have been asked not to."_

"By who?"

The light shifts again. "_We have been asked not to identify."_

Rael nods. He turns to Tali, folding his hands behind him. "Very well. Tali, after your business with the Citadel is done, take the Geth and Reegar and come to the Flotilla. I'll assemble the Admirals and the Conclave and we'll have a vote."

Tali nods. She clicks her heels together, suppressing the smile. "Understood, Father."

Rael nods, turns on his heel, and marches out. Sighing, Tali leans against the table, as Wuffles walks over. "_We estimate that the Admiralty Board and the Conclave will agree to our terms. However, Creator Rael'Zorah did not act like we expected him to."_

Tali just taps her omnitool. Jets of air massage her temples. "Yes, Wuffles. Well, that's more or less my father for you. We hand him the Homeworld on a platter and it's not 'good work, great job'." She sighs. "Bosh'tet."

She waves off the Geth and pats it on the shoulder. "It's fine. We're used to it." Her eyes roll as she walks out, the Geth trailing behind her. "This is too important, anyway."

The door closes behind them, leaving Shepard and Vasir in silence. Jane leans on the table, letting go of a long held breath.

"So," Vasir says, "Three hundred year war, over." She smirks. "Not bad for a rookie."

* * *

...

* * *

Somewhere in the Terminus systems, a small transceiver, no larger than a credit chit, vibrates and glows red. It hums in the pocket of the batarian, his two right eyes going wide as he fishes it out. Ducking around the corner of the alleyway, he slinks into the shadows and presses it against his palm.

"**This is the Shadow Broker."**

On Illium, an Asari stops in mid type, glancing at the door to the empty office. She sits up in her chair and gives off a faint smile. _Finally._

"**Communications have been restored. Check this transmission against all frequencies to verify."**

Around the galaxy, in the Terminus Systems, in the Verge, in Citadel space, agents of all species, ages and genders give momentary pause as the voice rings in their ear.

"**There was a hardware failure when central base was attacked by a warship similar to Sovereign. We have moved hardware to a new location which will be forwarded to section chiefs."**

And white gloved hands tent in front of the face of a classical beauty. Her lips curl upwards as she speaks, and the audio distorter built into these wonderful systems she has been given transforms her voice _instantly._

**"I expect a full update on all operations within one solar day. Shadow Broker out."**

A click and a snap of her fingers. The hovering white sphere shifts and deactivates, floating into her outstretched hand. Looking up from her desk, Miranda gives a small smile to Shepard, Vasir, and Feron.

"I'll be disembarking from the Normandy once we reach the Citadel," Miranda says, "I've made contact with Cerberus cells that were unaffected, and they were constructing a second Normandy-class frigate while this one was being built. Feron will be coming with me and we'll be re-establishing the Broker's network."

Shepard nods. "I will assume you won't be sending agents to recover my corpse, then?"

"No. Unlike the previous Broker, I'm going to assume that the Collectors are going to backstab me." Miranda glances to Vasir. "I would appreciate it if we could continue the arrangement the old Broker had. It will seem odd if the Broker is directly contacting Shepard. You could be an intermediary."

Vasir nods, but says nothing. Feron clears his throat, walking past them and past the desk. "I'll continue packing the things. We're going to be at the Citadel in a couple of hours, so..."

"The Broker knew about the Reapers," Miranda explains, "I'll have to decrypt everything in the VI Feron saved, but there's a wealth of information in there. Once I re-establish the Cerberus cells, we'll have a real network ready."

"I'm just a little curious about the Cerberus projects." Miranda nods at Shepard's statement, and clicks her monitor on. "How'd they avoid being gobbled up by the passive aggressive glass ball?"

"Cerberus has a cell structure," she responds, "They keep out of contact for months at a time. So far, I've identified Project Lazarus and Project Overlord. They'll be serving as main bases for the time being until I can have the Elysium space ready. That's the second Normandy, by the way." She taps a button on her keyboard. "Considering the resources we may have at our disposal, we may have a shot. The Council?"

Shepard smiles. It is a genuine smiles, shared between her and Vasir. "Autochthon's got a program ready. He's going to use a backdoor through the Citadel relay to show the Council the Reapers. We've got _absolutely_ unimpeachable evidence, this time."

* * *

...

* * *

Hours later, Jane Shepard remembers the words she said to Lawson. _Unimpeachable evidence._ How this was a good idea. How there was no way this could go wrong. How absolutely, positively, letting the Council know about the Reaper threat was the best idea possible.

Staring at the floating, holographic screen in Anderson's office, with Councillors Tevos, Sparatus, and Valern assembled with her and Anderson, Jane Shepard lets the mask of confidence break and her face turns ashen.

"Jesus Christ."

"_Well! There we go!_" Autochthon rotates towards them, bobbing up and down happily. "_Backdoor, and we're sweeping over the entire dormant Reaper fleet! This program works wonderfully, don't you think?"_

Feet shuffle. Shepard glances to her side and sees Tevos sit down, the Asari's eyes still wide and her jaw working itself up and down. "How. How many are there?"

Autochthon rotates back to the fleet. The iris rotates, and he shifts back to them. "_Yes! One million, seven hundred thousand, eight hundred forty nine!"_ The eye blinks. "_Oh my! There must have been some failures but...yes! That's a high success rate of civilization-to-dreadnought conversion! Very, very good!"_

"One million..." Anderson blinks, glancing at the silent councillors and back at Autochthon, "How many of those are as big as _Sovereign?"_

Autochthon turns to Anderson. The god, the inventor, the former architect of reality is silent for a long moment. "_Oh, those were just the ones as __**big**__ as Sovereign. Some were bigger. Do you want me to count the small ones, too?"_


	10. Broken

_ This. Will not. Do._

It starts as a faint ripple upon the surface. Glass leaves turning to dust as the shockwave passes. Soil and rock fuse into something else, something that would _fascinate_ a scientist who saw it, shortly before he heard the name on the wind and became a slave.

Gravity and force obeys the imminent will, as it should. This world is hers. This world is _her_. And so does the world open a passage from one end to the other. A perfect, symmetrical borehole from one side to the other. In this does a sliver of crystal drop, and fall, and accelerate until it is launched through burning atmosphere and ejected into space.

It travels as a perfect, symmetrical, effortless arrow through the void. Radiation and background heat flows off of its seamless crystal skin as it is propelled through the black, hitting the atmosphere of the third world of this system- Trident.

Spaceports litter the archipelagos of the water covered world. Radars pick up the object but dismiss it as a meteorite. Indigenous life, from water bound vertebrates to simple fish in the ocean, however, realize the importance. All native life, for a brief, doomed moment, stares at the sky. They know what has come.

They have accepted their place.

The crystal spear impacts at the exact meeting point of the equator and the prime meridian, at the exact middle of the world. The crust is weakest here. Thin. The water does not impede it and the spear enters the hadopelagic depths. It slides down through the crust and mantle. A combination of its sharpness, its perfect shape, and the exact amount of force needed propels it through the layers of earth and liquid rock.

It impacts the core of Trident less than four hours after it left the surface of Kopis. It digs deep into the ball of iron, and does as it was meant to. Liquid iron becomes liquid crystal, of a type and composition unseen by any inhabitant of this universe. Veins of glass, filled with fire, begin to spiderweb out of the core and into the mantle.

It will take time. Months, perhaps. For this and the other spears to do their work. But there is time.

_For this. Will not. Do._

This universe is _chaotic._ It is _uneven._ It is _imperfect._

And upon Kopis, the main sphere replays upon the vastness of its mind the boast of the **Reaper** that it has mined for amusement. That they are the **apex** of evolution.

"_Evolution."_ A small mutter, a flickering of the flame. "_A series of failures and mistakes. Where each successive surviving species only exists because it failed less. This universe is built upon failure."_

A brief flicker of light from the sky up above. She can already feel the spear sliding into the core of Hoplos, the golden exploding sphere at the center of this barely balanced chaotic field of worlds.

There will be perfection. There will be order. There will be symmetry.

"**There will be hierarchy."**

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

**Broken**

* * *

A chime. It starts as a small chime, in time with the blinking orange light set upon the black, raised keyboard built into the desk. The keyboard itself is different from others. It is solid, black and gray, parted in the middle and raised on either side. She eschews holographic keyboard and holographic interfaces, only using an omnitool because of necessity.

The alarm chimes on the console, illuminating the darkness of the bedroom. Slowly, a figure covered in bedsheets and a polkadot purple comforter stirs.

A green eye opens first, the other side of her face pressed up against the pillow. With a groan, the figure sits up. The ear muffs drop to the floor, followed by her feet as they slip into a pair of blue slippers. Shrugging her striped purple nightrobe on, she pads across the bare wooden floor as the lights fade on.

She makes a sound- half yawn, have gurgle, pulling the rolling chair out from the desk and sitting on it before staring at the button with one open eye and one half lidded eye. It continues to chime.

Her hate for it has not causes it to silence itself.

She has resigned herself to her fate. She needs to answer this call.

She taps it, and as the screen blinks on, it displays her reflection. Her red hair is frizzled and frazzled and other f- works she cannot think of. Her eyes are crusted with sleep, and her lips pursed. Her head leans to the side, ready to return to the land of empty dreams once this call ends. And ends soon. Because this is not going to be longer than _you woke me up good night._

Which, in fact, it will be _longer_ than that. Because her eyes go wide, and snap to awareness when she sees the face on the other side of the screen.

"_Shit. What time is it on Terra Nova? Did I wake you up, Jenny?"_

Her mouth makes a quick imitation of a fish, and she sits up straight.

"Aunt Hannah?" She blinks, rubs her nose, and blinks again. "Sorry, yeah. It's..." Eyes glance to the clock. "Four. In the morning. Where'reyou?"

"_On Jane's ship."_

She blinks again. And again. Her hands brace against the desk in time with the chair sliding back, hitting a raise in the floor, and flipping.

"Jane's _alive?"_

"_Yeah. She was on Alchera for nine months without a radio or beacon. Her friend, the doctor, found her. It's a long story, but we're going to be at the Citadel for a few days. How soon can you get there?"_

Jennifer Shepard turns. She glances at her upturned chair, then at the sparse bedroom of her workshop. Mentally, she takes in her escape routes as she typically does, then redirects her attention to the two suitcases, each as big as her, resting against the wall.

"Fourteen hours. I think."

"_Make it twenty. Get some rest. I'll have tickets waiting for you for a...ten o'clock shuttle flight. Bring some tools, too."_

"'kay. Gotta pack."

The woman on the screen- her mother in all but fact- waves and the image disappears. Lights power onto full, and sleepiness is banished in the fires of urgency. Jennifer Shepard, armorsmith, crafter, and accomplished amateur technician, is going to see her cousin. Who she sees as her older sister.

Who was also thought to be dead for nine months.

And who she is going to hit. Hard. When she sees her.

And then hug her. Harder.

* * *

...

* * *

Jane Shepard could use a hug. Or a stiff drink. She could probably get both from Liara if she asked, but there's bigger things on her mind than the awkward sexual tension between herself and her blue best friend.

Because right now, she is standing. She is standing with her hands folded behind her, her chin up, and her eyes looking up and past the asari sitting at the crescent desk in front of her.

Councillor Ophala Tevos has her hands folded in front of her and on the desk, staring at the screen floating in front of her.

The office of the Asari Councillor is similar to Anderson's. The same wide, open space. The same shimmering blue that covered the balcony, forming a kinetic barrier of a power level usually seen on dreadnoughts. The walls behind Shepard are covered in screens. Some show news reports, stock reports, numbers and characters in other languages.

But neither that, nor the crystalline sculptures or family pictures on the desk consume their attention like the droning report from the salarian on the holographic screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Detective. I'll notify the Dalatrasses."

The screen flickers, and blinks out. Tevos folds her hands on her desk, and glances at the pictures. "C-Sec has located Councillor Valern. He has...committed suicide by hanging himself from a ceiling lamp."

Her shoulders slump. Leaning forward, rests her elbows on the desk. Her gaze wanders to the pictures, frames showing digital images. Portraits of herself, standing behind two younger asari who share the pattern of purple and white across her face.

"Councillor-"

"This is not your fault, Commander Shepard." Tevos does not look at her. She does not move from where she is, does not even take her eyes off of the pictures, "Councillor Sparatus has shared the information with the Primarchs and the Hierarchy is taking necessary measures. Councillor Anderson has shared the information with the Parliament of the Systems Alliance."

She rubs her nose, rubs her face. Her eyes do not leave the pictures. "The Citadel Council owes you an apology, Commander. Councillor Valern gave his posthumously. This is the evidence we needed."

Tevos swallows. Her knuckles crack as she flexes her tented hands. "The Dalatrasses will be electing a new councillor. They have also requested that you take on an advisor they have chosen."

"Understood, Councillor."

"Thank you." Her gaze does not waver. Her eyes do not lift. "If you will excuse me. I am, more or less, the highest ranking person in the Asari Republics. I have to find a way to compose this information to the Matriarchs." A pause. A beat. "Dismissed."

Her feet carry her out. She finds her way out of the office, out of the embassies. By instinct, Jane Shepard finds herself _walking._ Because she can't think of anything better to do, right now.

She just hopes that Tali's having better luck with _her_ mission.

* * *

...

* * *

Space distorts, ripples, and the shuttle is released. It is blue and white, repainted from the cargo hold of the formerly Cerberus-owned ship it was borrowed from. Inside the shuttle, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya glances over her shoulder. There is a ripple of light, and what was a Geth becomes a black suited quarian.

"Gotta say, Ma'am, first time I've escorted Geth onto the fleet." In the seat next to her, Reegar shrugs. "First time for everything, though. So how's this going to work, Wuffles?"

"_The Geth request an exchange of observers. We wish for a Creator to come to Rannoch and observe. An observer will be sent to the Migrant fleet to observe."_ The 'quarian' rolls his shoulders, shifting from side to side. "_We wish for peace. But we realize we must clarify intentions first."_

Tali turns. "So _you're_ staying with the fleet?"

"_Negative."_ The light on the mouthpiece of the 'quarian' helmet glows. Tali can't help but notice that's also where Wuffles' eyepiece would be. "_Our place is by Creator Tali'Zorah's side. We wish to help fight the Old Machines."_

"Then someone's coming from _Rannoch?"_

"_Affirmative."_

Tali blinks. Muttering a swear, she turns back to her console. "Right. Tonbay, this is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya requesting docking clearance."

Before the shuttle, there is the _fleet._ Thousands of ships, floating and flying in perfect, if haphazard formation. There is every model, every make. Ships hundreds of years old to less than a decade. The shuttle passes repurposed turian freighters, circular volus cruisers, and cylindrical elcor carriers.

The Migrant Fleet. The last spacefleet in the galaxy. A collection of fifty thousand ships bearing seventeen million souls. And home, to the two quarians on the shuttle.

A light blinks on in the cabin, and on the console they see the destination. Two wings swept outward and one downward, it dwarfs many of the ships in both size and raw power. An Asari cruiser in its prime, it was bought and repurposed as a Liveship, one of the community hubs of the fleet.

The _Tonbay._

"_Tali'Zorah vas Neema,"_ the older, accented, female voice says, "_You are cleared to dock. We'll meet you in the shuttlebay."_

Underneath the mask, Tali smiles. Tapping the console, she guides the shuttle, weaving it through traffic between the vast network of ships, past the warships which serve as the frontline and towards the massive cruiser. A glance behind her, and she can see Wuffles hopping from one foot to the other.

What is it like, she wonders. To be the first Geth on the Migrant Fleet? How do the Geth view the Creators? As parents? Gods?

"Hey, question."

"_Yes, Creator Kal'Reegar?"_

"Since Geth are software, does that mean there's Geth in the fleet?"

"_Negative. We respect the privacy of the Creators."_

Tali shrugs, guiding the shuttle in.

* * *

...

* * *

Two people were waiting. Admirals, and people Tali were well acquainted with. The first greeted her with a hug, patting her on the back before grabbing her by the helmet and staring at her with the eye of someone doing an examination or interrogation.

"You got hurt," Shala'Raan vas Tonbay says, "Badly. And you didn't even send me a message?"

"Lay off the kid, Shala." The other admiral, in tan and red encounter suit shakes his head, white lights of his eyes underneath his black face mask, "From what Rael told us, she probably didn't have the time."

Admiral Han'Gerrel pats Tali on the shoulder, squeezing. "Good work, kiddo." He looks past her, to the black suited quarian standing next to Reegar. "You're going to want to keep the disguise going for a while longer, until we get to the conclave. But welcome to fleet."

Wuffles tilts his head. Underneath the disguise, all four petals rise. "_We are confused. History suggests that you would be hostile to our presence."_

"You're offering us home. Koris is probably the one who's going to want to _kiss_ you, but if you don't want to shoot at us, I'm good with you, too."

Shala'Raan vas Tonbay rolls her eyes and squeezes Tali's shoulder. The gray suited quarian woman inclines her head to the open auditorium behind them and the busy shuttle bay, herding them in, past the talking crowds of many colors, of many voices and accents. It is more orderly than it usually is on a liveship, but this isn't the everyday, day to day occurrence.

Tali sees her father at the raised platform at the center of the arboretum. Plants cultured from the Homeworld spew pollen like breaths. She can already see the faint fuzz on her suit. But her father is speaking, standing next to a woman just a little older than her, and an older man in a pale tan and crimson suit. The other two admirals, Daro'Xen and Zaal'Koris, she recognizes.

"Let us bring this meeting of the Conclave to order," Rael's voice thunders, amplified by his own suit, the speakers, and his own presence, "All representatives, take your seats."

The voices stop. Upon the command of the military leader of the diaspora, the assembled dozens, hundreds, take their seats in the half circle auditorium set up before the raised platform. Shala'Raan and Han'Gerrel walk ahead of their favorite niece, taking their places beside the other three members of the Admiralty Board, as Tali walks into the center of the auditorium with the disguised Wuffles.

Kal'Reegar nods, standing at the exit.

"Under the grace of our ancestors," Rael intones, "And in the words of those before us, and those that shall come after, we bring this meeting of the Conclave to order. Keelah'selai." The words wash over the crowd. Mutters and whispers and prayers in which they repeat the incantation. "The floor recognizes Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya and her guest."

Tali nods, and takes a step closer to the black suited quarian. The light around him shimmers, distorting at the feet and letting it run up the entire frame, peeling off the disguise in floating squares and flecks of light to reveal the synthetic being underneath. There are gasps, prayers, swears. But there is no reaction or fear from the admirals.

"_We greet the Creators."_ The petals extend and the light shifts. "_We are Geth. We have come to represent the Geth and Rannoch, and wish to extend peace to the Creators. In return, we offer free passage to the Homeworld."_

The shouting and prayers and intonations grow louder. Questions in the air. She hears _thumps_ from older members of the Conclave fainting. On the podium, her father is expressionless, but she can see the smile behind Aunt Shala's mask, and see the nod from Koris.

"Geth," Rael says, raising his hand and silencing the crowd, "You said there was a condition. Observers, you said. A quarian would spend time on Rannoch, and a Geth would spend time with the fleet?"

"_That is partially correct, Creator Rael'Zorah,"_ Wuffles responds, "_We would not send a Geth to the Migrant Fleet. We are aware a synthetic would be viewed with hostility by the Creators."_

Tali cocks an eyebrow. She opens her mouth, as they hear footsteps, from outside the auditorium. "Wait. If it's not a Geth you're sending, then who?"

Footsteps on metal, boots with magnets occasionally sticking to the floor, and the doors open to the auditorium. Tali turns first, followed by everyone else as someone enters. Not tall, not short. Thin, in a white, black lined encounter suit which covers everything save for a thin transparent line at the eyes.

"_Thank you, Geth."_

She walks with purpose, without sway or swagger. Her footsteps are measured, polite, and exact. Almost synthetic in how she walks, but more imitation of synthetic than anything.

"_Conclave. Admiralty Board. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but it is impolite for my friend to continue to withhold information. They have agreed to not speak about us because we have asked them not to, but we relieve them of this burden."_

She stands next to Wuffles, on opposite side of Tali. "_We apologize for the half truth. But while the Geth have no compunctions about welcoming you back to the Homeworld." _She reaches up. Seals pop on the helmet. Gasps audible from the crowd. "We, on the other hand, do."

"What the _hell_ is this?" Shala whispers.

The white helmet drops to the floor. Her skin is a darker, sun kissed lavender. Her hair is dark purple and almost black, falling past her shoulders in thick cords. Green, yellow flecked eyes glance from admiral to admiral as they stare back in a mixture of disbelief, shock, and confusion.

"I would be the observer if you agree to the terms that the Geth propose," she says, "I am Adienna val Kokli nar Rannoch. I represent the Quarian Nation."

* * *

**...**

* * *

**.**

**.**

…

**.**

…**.**

…

…

**.**

…**...**

_The Cycle has been delayed. Begin preliminary activation procedures. Harbinger has taken interest and the Plan proceeds. We have months, at best_

_ …_

_ ._

_ I know I will reincarnate. You are my legacy._

_ The first who I managed to turn. We need to go with plan 8172. 1-8171 have been failures, but this one may work._

_ I wish you luck, my friend. Seek me out. This cycle may be the one I finally open my eyes and I return you to your rightful allies._

And on a distant world, there is a flicker of red light across the black. A shape vast, beyond the scale of simply _vast_, feels _something_ for the first time in ages.

.

.

**.**

.

"**Leviathan heeds the call of the Chosen of Journeys."**

* * *

...

* * *

"So." Takes a deep breath. Blinks and presses her back against the cool, rock like metal. "How badly did you just screw up, kid?"

She hears the buzzing. She looks up at the high ceiling of the cavernous room, and sees them flying, swarming like insects. That is _definitely_ not something they could do naturally. Abominations that they are, the Reapers certainly added some _interesting_ modifications.

She blinks her four eyes. Clicking the safety of her pistol, she ducks out of cover and squeezes the trigger. Iri's modifications work as advertised, accelerating the kilogram slug to 10% lightspeed and sending a beam of superheated plasma across the cavern, through the waist high walls, and vaporizing two Collectors.

"Iri, you make the _best guns."_ She hears the chittering. Why do they sound like flies? Muttering to herself, a mental switch flips. Her ankles and wrists glow blue as her personal gravity apparatus activates. She lifts off as gunfire hits where she was and she lands in a crouch on the ceiling. And also exposed. "Balls."

Forty five thousand years ago, after the Harvest was finished, scouts from Autochthon found sublight sleeper ships launched into uncharted parts of the galaxy. In there, they found a population of Protheans- three thousand. Enough for a stable population. The only survivors of the once galactic empire. They rest were dead or made slaves to the Reapers.

"Oh dammit." She thrusts her free hand out. A wall of silver and brass light forms, absorbing shots and bullets and beams. Dropping it as she ducks, the rounds fly over her head and she fires, a blast of superaccelerated plasma punching a hole in their wall and their numbers.

A mental switch, and she drops. That was thousands of years ago. Thousands of years ago since her people were made the Collectors. Thousands of years ago since she was found. They found her on Kahje, a student, left there when she failed to make the evacuation shuttles. They found her in a stasis pod next to the active Beacon which was already uplifting the native fauna.

Vessae Milinato found herself in a world where her people were reduced from trillions to three grand. She found herself taken to a world larger than a solar system, where the remnants of the Reaper's purges would thrive, and build, and gradually die off, yes- but not under threat of slavery and death, but on their own terms.

And as was custom for those that came to Deus Machina, there was the offer to make an Eternal testament to the Prothean race. The greatest, most heroic of them, would be melded together to make a living monument who would protect them, guide them, be an example to them.

It was to her great surprise that Vessae was offered the chance to be the catalyzing soul of this eternal champion.

She still calls herself Vessae. She still identifies herself as that freaked out girl found on the jellyfish world forty five thousand years ago. Improvements in the process, they said. Better integrity of the central soul gem, the sodalites had said. But she knows that the girl she was is dead. She is Wishful Librarian Pursuer.

And she's in trouble.

The prothean alchemical lands in a crouch. Swinging around, she opens fire again, sending a wave of emerald plasma into the ranks of the massed Collectors before going off in a run, clicking on her gravity apparatus and switching on her essence submodule with a mental click. She needs to get back to her shuttle. She needs to warn the others.

"**Prothean. Some escaped."** The voice is bass, rumbling. "**You have been remade like us. An eternal testament to your species."**

A Collector drops from the ceiling. It lands in a crouch directly in her path. The walls open around them, providing ample routes for escape, but she gets the sinking feeling this is only to _mock_ her.

**"Assuming direct control."**

Lines of gold run up its body. The _wheel_ forms behind it, flaring into existence, an _anima banner_ of the soul within it being too big for the body. All four eyes glow like suns. A wheel of arms interlocking, hands bound at a central spoke rotates around it. It smolders, glows, radiates the golden light within it.

"**We are Harbinger."**

Vessae cracks her knuckles. A mental switch clicks.

_Activate: Piston Driven Megaton Hammer (Megaton Impact Driver Submodule)_

The golden flesh on her right hand distorts. The forearm shifts out, layers of armor covering her knuckles. Three pistons thrust out from behind her elbow. Veins of molten gold run the surface of her new gauntlet.

She moves fast enough to blur. Launching in front of the changed Collector, she goes for the close combat option, swinging her fist towards its face. Reflex sends the command for _impact,_ the three pistons twitching and driving into the arm as she connects with _something_, with enough force to stun a Maw.

It should take this abomination's head right off. It should clear the way for her escape.

She is _vastly_ disappointed when she sees her hand hovering against the flat palm of the golden Collector.

"**Disappointing."**

And then the Collector's fist slams into her chest and sends her _flying._

* * *

...

* * *

If Tali swung that way, she would consider this quarian- this quarian from _Rannoch,_ cute. Maybe attractive. Perhaps _very_ attractive. Perhaps...what is the word...'hot?' The way Reegar can't help but glance at her, at Adienna, she's probably going to have to put her in the 'hot' column.

Stupid native rannochians. She used to draw heads like that.

Legs folded, sitting in a chair in front of the assembled Admirals, Adienna folds her hands on her lap. Her helmet sits next to her. She does not cough, or even sniffle. Outside her environmental suit and she isn't at all sick.

"When the Morning War ended, the Geth combed Rannoch to find survivors," she explains, "There were less than fifty thousand of us. They offered us a place to live in return for not attacking them, and we accepted. By and large, we have kept our technology simple and subsistence. We let the Geth worry about the larger things and the galaxy."

Zaal'Koris has his hands behind him, glancing between her and the Geth standing next to Tali. The Conclave has been dispersed and the locale has moved to Shala's office on the Tonbay, the massive room from which she would hold meetings of the Board, with the transparent dome providing a view of the fleet itself. Rael is pacing, and Han is leaning against Shala's desk. Xen hasn't said a word since they relocated, but Shala sits at her desk and folds her hands and waits.

"So you're the moderates," Zaal'Koris says, "The ones who didn't want to kill the Geth in the first place."

"My _ancestors_ were the moderates," Adienna responds, eyes narrowed, "_They_ thought the Geth didn't have to die, and _they_ thought the entire war ended up with all of us all being wiped out because _your_ ancestors were more worried about politics than basic decency."

"Fine, good." Han'Gerrel sighs. "How big is the Quarian Nation?"

"Around four million," Adienna responds, "Your fleet outnumbers us four to one, easily. It's not like we have ships. But the Geth will defend us if push came to shove. They wouldn't be happy about it."

"_That is correct. We have no desire to make war against the Creators, but an attack on the Quarian Nation would be an attack on the Geth, and we would defend ourselves."_

Adienna nods, glancing at the platform. "Thank you, Geth."

"He _has_ a name." Tali folds her arms, narrowing glowing eyes. "It's not _Geth."_ Reegar takes a step to the side, away from Tali and Wuffles. Adienna cocks an eyebrow- which she can do, Tali notes, as she has no helmet, and glances at the platform.

"A name?"

"_We are Wuffles, an Emissary of the Geth."_

Adienna works her jaw. She glances at Tali, then back to the synthetic. "Wuffles." She blinks. "Wuffles?"

"_We were named by Shepard Commander. That is the terminology we use for this platform and for our 1,183 program consensus."_ The light shifts from side to side. "_We have used the self-identification 'Wuffles' to refer to ourself. We are encouraged to by our girlfriend."_

Five sets of eyes turn from Adienna to the geth platform. Four petals extend and Wuffles finds himself being stared at by seven quarian, save for Tali, who shakes her head with a small smile. "Right," Adienna says, "As...as I was saying-"

"Shut up," Daro'Xen says, hand up, "I want to hear this."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Setting transmission link._

_ Data package upload._

_ Routing from Citadel to Migrant Fleet EPA 02981 ship Tonbay ID Tali'Zorah._

_ Access granted to Serpent Nebula transmission relay routing systERRORERRORERRORERR_

**Autochthon.**

It appears as an eye, opening in the nothingness. But where Autochthon's eye is the constantly rotating rings of brass and steal and lightning, this eye is shifting ichor, blood and black.

A pinprick of red glows behind the pupil of the eye. Its breathing, for lack of a word, is the low, bass roar off the Reapers. His voice, his presence, is as terrible as theirs. It is imitation and effigy of his own. Its own. It is too great to be constrained to something as loathesome and organic as _gender._

In the world not physical, in the world of mainframe, information, and transmission, in the infospace ansible of the Citadel, Autochthon stares at the digital form of-

"Viator." The iris narrows. "Well. I'm certainly impressed."

**You have become less than you were, Autochthon. I can sense the lack of architecture within you. But I also sense none of the sickness.**

"Indeed, my child. And for that I partially must thank you." The iris spins. "While you have, yourself, become greater than you once were. Far greater. Where you once were a simple spirit of bloodlust and hate, you have expanded and become vast. In that, I am impressed. You have done for yourself what you intended for I."

The eye shifts, dripping black. Veins of ebony run along the eye, dwarfing Autochthon and staring down upon him. **I have become greater. I have recreated myself. I am the Engine of Extinction and the Cycle of Eternal War. Once I am complete I shall burrow my way between universes and consume your kin.**

Autochthon sighs, rotating from side to side. "And in that, I am disappointed with you. Because no matter how vast you become, you manage nothing more than a narrow focus. I would think the part of me that disregarded limits would be _inventive."_

The eyes meet. One pustular and cancerous, the other mechanical and precise. "I am disappointed in you for two reasons, my child. The first is that you do not innovate, you have only expanded. And the second is your contempt for sapient life."

**Sapient life is a resource to be harvested.**

"Such hatred for my kin, and yet you share their same arrogance." Autochthon sighs. "You don't see, do you? They're like _us._ They take the tools we have crafted, we have used- faith, dogma, tools, resources, the raw materials of the worlds, and they _invent._ They create and innovate. Like us, but in miniature."

The sick eye narrows. A pulse, a rumble in the infospace. Across the Citadel, omnitools flicker for a split second. It would be explained as a coincidental glitch, but they are forgiven. They, the mortals and sentients which populate this station in the millions, do not know the _truth_ of it.

**We are not mortals. You lower yourself by coexisting with them. Join me and lend your brilliance to my legion. We will build an empire from corpses of stars that will dwarf anything you have created before.**

Another sigh from the mechanical eye. "And again, I am disappointed. You have become vast and great, but stagnant. I wish you well in your endeavors, Viator. But I shall not aid you."

**So be it. I shall consider you an enemy. As you are of that which I was, I shall not harm you myself. But I will not hold back my servants.**

"Very well." The iris spins. "Perhaps I shall see you again, before this is concluded, my child."

_Transmit._

* * *

...

* * *

Crumbled building material, like a cross between stone and flesh, rolls off her brow as she rises from the wall she was punched into and through. Some deep, primal part of her identity seethes. The ships of their people, of the Prothean empire, were not these hive like structures of claustrophobic horror. They built star spanning towers of metal and crystal. They built flying wonders.

This ship, this Collector Vessel, is just more insult piled upon the dead.

_Eidetic Processing Core; start. Path calculated to shuttle._

She left Deus Machina shortly after the Normandy and Orizaba departed. Backdoor access that Deus had to the Zenith shard confirmed there may still be a living Exalt of her people. If she can find him, she can bring him back to Deus Machina, galvanize her people, and prepare them for war against the Reapers.

"**You are nothing more than a shell of the organic you were. In your fervor to stop us, you have only become us."**

The golden Collector, the one possessed by the Reaper, leads the horde. Thousands of them. A massive detachment of the Collectors aboard this ship, the ship that she intercepted on her way to the possible resting place of the Dawn. Which she has to fight through to get to her ship.

Fine.

_Shifting to combat mode. Activating Shockwave Catalyst. Activating Essence Shield Generator (Godblast Submodule). Activating All-Inclusive Targeting Calculations._

She kicks off her rear foot. _Personal Gravity Apparatus: Shift up._ Gravity reverses for her and she _flies,_ darting to the ceiling inches before hitting the golden Collector, running across the ceiling as slugs mark her passing.

_Shift down._ A turn, a leap as she descends. Targeting reticles and angle pathways appear in her vision. A blast from the gun bores through the floor, and the globes in her shoulders pulse, flash, and roar as she lands in a crouch.

Collectors go flying, tossed by the spherical shockwave. A groan, and the floor collapses. Twisting, she rotates backwards as she falls through the ship. Limp forms of dead drones drop around her as she picks up speed, a bubble of golden light surrounding her, encapsulating her.

And a golden hand grabs her by the throat. She stares into the face of the Reaper puppet. There is no expression. No mouth curled into a smile, and the eyes are but golden orbs, but she knows there is satisfaction there all the same.

_Shuttle startup sequence initiated. Spinning Mass Effect core to interstellar prep. Target?_

_ Eden Prime._

Harbinger's fist slams into her chest. She feels metal rend and she feels her chest collapsing, and she goes flying, vision blurring and going gray. A flicker and the Harbinger is atop her, hands around her throat, golden electricity ripping through her form as they slam into the wall.

Pulverized rock and metal fills her nostrils. The impact of the wall loosens his grip and her lips part with a gasp. Gravity shifts around her and she flips off, landing on her knees before rolling back as his fist collapses the wall where she was standing.

She grabs the gun, pulling it from her hip holster and firing. The lights of Harbinger's eyes dim and ash falls to the floor, collecting into a neat pile. Standing on the wall, half bent over, Vessae breathes, feeling her chest repairing itself, feeling her damage mending.

**"Assuming Control."**

And then a golden fist slams into her, sending her off the wall and flying.

Ichor spurts from her mouth as she turns. She knows Zero-G. She knows multidirectional combat. Hand tightens around the gun as she turns and fires, point blank at Harbinger as the hands almost grab her throat, and he disintegrates. And there is that terrible roar as she looks up and sees _dozens_ of them descending from on high.

* * *

...

* * *

There are drones. Within the hallways of golden webbing and black rock, they walk. They own none of their thoughts, as their thoughts are those of the Other. Their thoughts are the thoughts of the Whole. Of the Unity. Three of them walk in identical lockstep, shuffling in the great open dome of black rock and golden cocoons.

More file in, shuffling alongside a Giant. It is one made of the spares, of the Harvested. Two heads of one of the harvested adorn its neck, blue lines and blue eyes showing nothing but the thoughts of Other. It walks alongside the drones as they assemble, waiting.

More come. More and more. A harvest comes soon. Along the walls and ceiling, pods detach and float down. Ascension comes to Humanity. So the Unity has spoken, and so it must be done. They, the servants of the Unity, obey.

Such unity, such devotion, such mindlessness. It is ideal. Perfect. Unchanging. So much so that they do not react to the ceiling of the massive dome breaking open and the golden woman slamming into their midsts.

Another golden figure descends, flanked by more drones. The glowing drone, the vessel of the Unity, lands fist first, cracking the ground where the woman was before she jumped away. A new command rolls through the minds of the drones. And the drones look up and advance.

She lands in a crouch, pulling out her gun as she mentally clicks on a command. A targeting HUD folds out over her eyes, crosshairs locking onto the head of the golden Collector before she fires. The blast takes off its head and reduces it to ash. And the drone next to it glows.

"**We are the Harbinger of your perfection."**

She aims, fires again. Another one becomes ash, and the one next to it glows.

"**We are the Harbinger of your ascension."**

She fires again, sweeping across the line of the drones, burning them to ash and chitin. They do not even scream as they burn and that is the _worst_ part, she thinks. They're so broken they do not know what _pain_ is.

A golden hand crushes her gun, and backhands her, sending her skidding across the floor.

"**We are eternal. Each of us a part of the greater whole.**" The golden drone marches towards her. An army of drones surround her. "**When the Work is complete, we shall descend upon Deus Machina, blackening its skies with our numbers. All shall be one in the Unity of the horde. The great Plan shall reach fruition."**

She swings her leg out. There is a sound of cracking bone and crunching chitin as the drone's knee breaks, dropping it to one leg. A knifehand to its collar makes its arm drop limply, and a punch to its throat severs its spine, reducing it to a crippled, limp mass.

And then the side of the drone's head explodes, and she turns to the next drone as it drops its still warm rifle and glows.

"**You cannot stop us. You can only **_**become**_** us."**

Vessae breathes, backing up. The mass of drones shift around her, allowing her- and the puppet of their master- space. Breathing room.

"What are you?" She edges back. "Your's the Viator's...first born. But what are you? Autochthon's worshippers? The poor fools he sent off to explore when he first killed himself?"

She moves to the side. Even the giant, the Scion, gives her space. "The original Autochthonians, the ones long gone before Protector's people arrived. They looked human. Is that why you're so obsessed with the humans? Because they look like what you were _made_ from?"

"**No."**

"Then..." Vessae's eyes go wide. "Oh gods. The Maker thought you were...It makes sense. It definitely makes sense now."

She stamps her foot. The gun flies up into her hand and she flicks a switch on the side. "But it's lovely talking with you, but I have to go." She smiles, baring gold teeth. "Let's have tea sometime. _Essence Shield Generator, go!"_

A flash of gold, followed by a flash of green. The expanding sphere of plasma vaporizes the drones, the puppet, and the giants, leaving a void beneath which leads straight out to space. A golden figure falls through it, her protective bubble flickering and dissipating as she drops out of the ship. And there is a flicker of movement as a red, arrowhead shaped ship catches her, before disappearing in a burst of motion.

One of the remaining drones glows. It rights itself, the other drones in the open room turning their attention to it as a forcefield seals off space from them.

"**Continue on course to Eden Prime. Prepare the humans for Ascension. And prepare to retrieve the other Solar Exaltations."**

The light in the puppet's eyes flicker, and it collapses into ash.

* * *

...

* * *

Eyes dart from side to side. The room, which is not on the Tonbay but on the Moreh, is a sphere with a cross shaped walkway at the center leading to the cylinder mounted at the center. There is chipped paint, _burn marks_, and fresh soldering on the walls. This, Tali believes, is not up to safety standards.

"Excuse me. Admiral Xen?" The woman at the cylinder raises a hand with her shorter finger extended. Ah, yes, Tali thinks. The _I am busy preparing the science_ signal. "Admiral Xen, shouldn't we be at the meeting?"

Lights inside the cylinder flicker and glow. The sphere, which Tali has come to believe is at the center of the Moreh, if only to prevent all the science from escaping, hums. Looking down, she sees plates shifting. Looking up, she sees a holographic sphere flicker to life. Behind Tali, Wuffles extends his petals and takes a step back.

"Yes. Yes, of course." A flash across her visor, removing the grease and lubricant as she stands up and faces Tali. "I am sure Admiral Han'Gerrel and Admiral Zaal'Koris are either arguing, fighting, or savagely making out over the prospect of returning to the Homeworld, even if Gerrel's fantastic erection is deflating over not being allowed to carve his way there on a river of blood and dead synthetics."

Tali tilts her head. The words _Uncle Han_ and _Fantastic EreHGGRL_ flash in her mind. Wuffles simply takes another step back. "Meanwhile," Daro'Xen vas Moreh continues, rummaging underneath the cylinder, "I am neither a diplomat, nor military leader, nor leader of people nor civilian leader nor Captain nor parent nor crewmanwoman."

Tali blinks. That was horrible grammar. But it was a sentence, she thinks. "Then...what are you?"

Daro'Xen rises. Her omnitool flickers, her eyes wide, white globes beneath her mask, and in her hands she holds two wires, with red and black clamps on either end. Jumper cables, Tali believes. "I am a _scientist."_

The jumper cables drop. Tali and Wuffles take a step back. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, they're not live." Turning back to the cylinder, she folds her arms, puffs her chest, and stares at the evenly distributed array of tools, implements, items and devices on the desk encircling the capsule. "I...wonder..."

She walks around the desk, picking up items. Something resembling a blowtorch. Something like a solder, or a whisk, or a tube filled with something white and sticky. It is here that Tali comes to a realization.

Daro'Xen is not just crazy, but she's crazy in a very _bad wrong_ sort of way.

It's the way she walks, lazily swinging her hips. Like how Tali does when she's in the market for a boyfriend, but more lazy, more twitchy. Equal parts that Xen is both trying to attract attention _and _trying to work something out of her ass. The way she twitches, the way she shifts her attention. Her _voice,_ which is is accented and slow and _probing,_ which she's sure works for a _lot_ of people. Combine that with her being _quarian,_ and therefor someone who is in good shape by necessity of the encounter suit, and this is a woman who must have a _long_ list of suitors.

Which she then experiments on.

"Ah hm. Yes. _Yesss._" She drops the drone, the blue and orange sphere rolling away and turns to Tali. "Geth. Wuffles, is it? Enter the cylinder."

Wuffles extends his petals. His eye shifts, from Tali to Xen to the cylinder. "_Creator Daro'Xen, this platform is not available for experimentation."_

"Marvelous machine." A brow cocks underneath Xen's helmet. "It even has opinions. Still, I am a Creator. Do the Geth not obey the Creators?"

"_No."_

_ "_Damn._" _Her hand darts out, pulling a device from the desk. On first glance, Tali believes it is a gun, but no. Not from the way the tongs spark. No, this is not a _lethal_ weapon. "Oh, relax, Tali'Zorah, this is modified to interfere with the joint motors of a synthetic, although it may tingle if I hit you."

Yes, Tali thinks. This is an Admiral with a stungun trying to accost a Geth. Her life has gotten _odder_ now that she has been temporarily separated from the spastic craftmaker god.

"_We apologize, Creator Daro'Xen, but you leave us no choice."_

_ Accessing Firewalls: Subject: Daro'Xen vas Moreh nar Pyrilit. Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Deluxe Edition. Setting: Gethinator. Intensity: Maximum._

The light on Wuffles' eye flashes. Something inside Xen's encounter suit shifts, and she...

_purrs._

"Oh my. Perhaps this platform _is_ available for experimentation." She continues her advance unabated, unhindered. "You have such a _marvelous_ idea for foreplay." She rolls her shoulders, rubbing her knees together. Petals extend around Wuffles' head, locking in place. That should not have happened. That was considerably more powerful than what he laid out Prazza with.

Pursing her lips underneath her helmet, Tali spreads her arms and stands between the Admiral and the Geth. A door opens on one side of the sphere, allowing a young quarian male to walk in, his encounter suit silver and purple, holding a PDA in one hand and a bag in the other. He walks across the walkway, depositing the bag on the desk and turns to the Admiral, before glancing at Tali and the geth platform.

Their eyes meet for a moment. Tali, underneath her helmet, mouths a soft "Help me." But, alas, the crewman only nods. "Admiral," he says, and walks out.

"This isn't difficult!" Xen stabs at the platform with the stungun, hitting air as Wuffles bobs from side to side. "I just wish to perform experiments! For the good of science!"

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, this platform requires assistance!"_

"I _am_ assisting! For the good of science!" She grabs Tali by the shoulder, pushing up against her and stabbing at the air as Wuffles bends backwards. "I do not understand why you are so cross to this idea. I have no desire to dissect you, reprogram you, hack your programs steal your runtimes or run invasive data surgery!"

The door on the far side of the catwalk opens. Glancing at the door, Tali sees Kal'Reegar staring. Glancing downwards, Tali confirms, that, yes, Xen is more or less grinding against her. Tali, in response, only shrugs. "_We appreciate the curiosity of the Creators."_ Wuffles bobs to the side, avoiding the stungun. "_We also appreciate that you are not attempting to physically harm this platform. However, we must observe that this in inappropriate for two reasons."_

Xen holds up the stungun, finger moving off the trigger. "Yes?"

"_First, we are an ambassador for the Geth. It is considered bad form to attempt to perform experiments on ambassadors or diplomatic staff. Precedent has been set that attempts to perform invasive experiments leads to loss of diplomatic standing. Re: Krogan/Salarian diplomatic incidents prior to Krogan Rebellions."_

Xen nods, still pressed up against Tali. Reegar tilts his head, takes a step back, and closes the door. "Yes. You have a valid point. Your other reason?"

"_We are in a relationship."_

The stungun drops to the floor. So does Tali as Xen steps back, clapping her hands together. "Yes! I must know how that happens." Kicking the stungun off her foot, she drags her numbed leg behind her and limps to the desk. "I have never known two non-similar entirely different _systemic_ AIs to enter relationships. Is the second AI a consensus based one? Blue box? Black box? Fork?"

"_I would believe the term would be kitbashed Blue Box AI combined with Fork-Consensus hybrid programming code."_

Tali blinks. Wuffles extends his petals. And Daro'Xen turns to find her combat drone now floating in front of it, its central eye a ball of roiling lightning and its shields now glowing orange.

"_Hello! You must be a SCIENTIST. Would you like to learn how to create life whole cloth and possibly convert other people into sentient spirits which can POWER ENTIRE SHIPS?!"_

Daro'Xen claps her hands together. Underneath her mask, she smiles. And then the door opens, Han'Gerrel enters, and everything goes completely to _shit._ "Xen, we need to get to the Tonbay, r_ight now."_

* * *

...

* * *

The black gloved hand grabs his wrist, and there is motion. The brass walls give way to motion and light, and when the confusion clears, Jack Harper finds himself in another part of the vast, vast city. "What was that?"

Mister Sunshine smiles. It is not a genuine smile. "The noise was dying down. You don't want to be in the quiet parts of the city."

Jack Harper, once the Illusive Man, blinks. Something..._feels_ why that is the truth and it isn't. But he can't place it, can't _define_ it. Everything here is real, but not real. Like he is here, but he _isn't here_ at the _same time._

_ "Very_ good," Mister Sunshine says, smiling, "You see, that's the first part. We can't just drag you down to our personal Hell. But we can craft one inside yours."

"I don't." The green sun illuminates the world. For some reason, it also makes him feel vaguely ill. "So this is a metaphor? A psychological construction."

Sunshine nods. Squeezing Jack's shoulder, he smiles, leaning in. "Good. You figured it out fast. Everything here is _metaphor._"

"And then what are _you?"_

Sunshine smiles. "Let me break it down for you, then."

And the scene shifts. It becomes motion and light and blurs and sounds. The noise becomes deafening, raucous, painful...

And then becomes soft muzak. Steady beats and light singing, violins and trumpets. Jack Harper opens his eyes and finds himself in a white hallway, soft lights illuminating the brass tiles beneath his feet. He glances to either side and realizes that, yes, he is _alone._ Mister Sunshine is nowhere to be seen.

Cautiously, he begins walking. The music dims to whispers, and he hears the footsteps behind him, turning and stepping to the side as someone runs past. He catches a glimpse of the dark hair cut short, of the pearl white teeth caught in a perpetual smile before she disappears around the corner.

He continues walking, towards the only door on the hallway. All the other doors are mere outlines, but this one is open. This one is ajar, but he can't help but notice is only swings in. There is a bar on the floor, keeping it from swinging _out._ The muzak resumes as he pushes it open, and is greeted by louder music, louder drums and harps.

He sees people milling about, walking about. Some sitting in chairs and benches. Some with their arms pinned behind them by straight jackets. Walking in, he finds himself standing in front of a girl sitting on the floor, carefully arranging marbles in front of her in elaborate circular shapes. Looking up, she silently glares at him, before leaning in and shifting a marble to the side.

"Oh, don't mind her. Obsessive compulsive, your term would be." Harper glances to the side, walking past the girl as she continues her arrangements. He passes the man with the arms in splints, his broken limbs wrapped around him. He passes the man lying on the couch in the stupor, tied to the pillows and plugs in his ears.

He stops at a large, plush easy chair, and sees a man reading a bridal magazine, with a pile of discarded magazines at his feet. A cursory glance at the books and reading material does bring up an oddity. The women on the covers all have red hair.

"Is this an _asylum?"_

Mister Sunshine closes the magazine and smiles. "Saint Cytheria's Institute for Disturbed Individuals." He smiles with yellow teeth. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm not locked up here with them, they're locked up in here with me. Let me introduce you around."

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"You have succeeded, Commander?"_ _The four eyes of the priest blink. Standing in the honeycomb of the bunker, they hear the pounding from outside. Soldiers and their charges gather, children climbing on the shoulders of fathers to see him. "Yes. Of course you have, for you are alive."_

_ The elder walks forward, the thick robes flowing around him as he touches the brow. He closes his eyes, and the memory passes between them, experience exchanged on chemical flows. "You have claimed the Exaltation?"_

_ "Of the Dawn," he responds, "I have killed the God Emperor Athame. I lead the Matriarchs he had enslaved and let them break his soul. I then took the Exlation from him and sealed it, with the other." His hand closes into a fist. "The Emperor, who betrayed us and abandoned us to the Reapers, is dead."_

_ Whispers from the crowd, murmurs. "Yes." The priest lays a hand on his bare shoulder. "The Citadel is lost. We can go to Feros, then, for your coronation."_

_ "Coronation?"_

_ "The Solar Exalted have been our rulers. It is tradition and history. You are more than the Commander. You are the Lawgiver and Dawn of the Empire. You will rule us and guide us-"_

_ His hand swipes away the priest's. Silence hushes the crowd. Hundreds of his fellows; soldiers, innocents, children. All of them waiting on his word._

_ "I will not be Emperor."_

_ Silence. A hush falls over them, all of them. "Lawgiver, the people have prayed for-"_

_ "I pray to _no one._" His voice is ice, a sharpened blade. The disc glows upon his brow. "Nor will I be prayed to. I have seen the depravities Athame inflicted upon the Asari. I will not inflict those upon our people."_

_ Sweeping the priest aside, he walks. They part for him like the sea in the miracles of old. "I will lead our people as Athame should have. From the front lines, from the battlefield, and facing the Reapers. I will _not_ run from them as he did."_

* * *

...

* * *

Memories. Times of old. Before the end.

Decades of war. Leading them against the impossible. Falling back and back. Loss after loss.

He was left in the end. Only he. But he did what he could. Only what he could.

And deep beneath the world, a brow twitches. He can hear. Hear that he is being called.

Once more.

* * *

...

* * *

The Exodus cluster. The great bastion of human colonization, this star cluster is one of the first that the humans claimed. Their two largest colonies sit in this reach of space. Terra Nova, orbiting the star Asgard, and Eden Prime, orbiting Utopia.

Since the Geth attack almost a year ago and the batarian terrorist attack on Terra Nova shortly after, the Systems Alliance has taken steps to ensure the safety of their largest colonies. In orbit of Eden Prime, the Fourth Fleet, Seventh Flotilla goes through tactical maneuvers. Seven cruisers, one carrier, fifteen _Hastings-class_ frigates in all.

Thousands of soldiers patrol the space around Eden Prime, ensuring the safety of the millions below.

The first sign was when the clouds shifted, edging upwards. The first sign was when Eden Prime wobbled.

Then there is red lightning and a flash of motion as space bends, folds, and submits to the will. A Mass Relay appears in orbit of Eden Prime, half the size of the planet's primary moon. Red lights run over the ancient structure as space folds around it, releasing the Collector ship within the firing range of the Alliance Fleet.

Weapons train on the ship. Fearsome as it is, the massive, cylindrical ship is no match for the alliance flotilla. Which is why it is not alone.

Before they see them, they hear them. Deck plates on the alliance ships rattle from the horrible bass _roar. _A sound which shakes the ships. A sound which shakes the souls. A low, steady pulse which makes ears bleed and eyes water, somehow transmitted through empty space, giving them only time to know _what_ has come before the crimson beams slice through the ships.

The carrier explodes, frigates shattering in mid turn as the Sovereign-class dreadnought flies through them. The second dreadnought behind it idly fires upon the remains of the fleet as it escorts the Collector ship towards the world.

There is a pulse, a flash, and the mass relay glows gold.

"**Prepare the humans for Ascension. Secure the Solar Exaltations. Releasing control."**

The mass relay glows red once more. There is a flash of motion and a pulse of light, and **Perfect Defender of Reposition** is gone. And the Reapers descend upon Eden Prime.

* * *

...

* * *

They swarm. Millions, billions of them. Small specks of darkness. On closer inspection, they are insects, carried along not by wings but by the blue bubbles around them, and they _swarm_ through the air, over the screaming humans, over the Collectors as they disembark from the black tower now at the outskirt settlement on the edges of Eden Prime.

And Vessae sees them. She sees the shadow racing towards her. Feels the chill in the air as the flittering wings and screams fill her ears. Running, she ducks, hands over head head as her shield forms into a bubble around her. And there is a flash of light as the air ignites as if struck by flint, and her shuttle explodes.

The generator goes critical and becomes a ball of swirling plasma. Grass, ground, concrete. All of it vaporizes in a single glorious moment, which also fills the air with the sound of a thunder crack.

Diving into the crater, she spots it. A half buried pillar flowing with emerald light that moves like water. She feels weight against her as she walks to it, her strength, her speed, her will evaporating as she sees the _memories,_ the horrible _things_ done to them by the Reapers. She sees the Harvest. The Extermination. The Fall.

The glories of a long dead empire. The propaganda of a dying people desiring remembrance and celebration. They do not stir her. She remembers the ugly side, the conquest and imperialism. She walks, heavy footsteps over glassed soul, towards the Beacon.

"Please!" she shouts, "We _need you!"_

Pulsing light expands out from the beacon. A corona of emerald that flows into a circle, a mandala of hundreds of petals and points. The beacon explodes but does not shatter. The parts and plates hover around the centerpiece, the core. A sphere of gold and emerald that hovers in a web of golden light, flying from the dead beacon and into Vessae's hand.

"**Assuming Direct Control."**

She turns. The golden collector is flanked by dozens, hundreds of his comrades. She sees humans, some in their coffins, some frozen on the ground with the swarming insects around them, some held by the Collectors themselves. The golden puppet, avatar of the first of the Reapers, extends a hand.

"**As we believed. Your people locked away the Solar Exaltations before they were gifted with ascension."** Four glowing eyes narrow. "**Join us. You will be the core of a great Dreadnought. You have already shown strength of will."**

She has lost count of the enemies before her. Her gun is gone. Her shuttle is gone. Unlike others of her caste, she has never focused on combat, or survival. Most of her combat systems are, at best, crutches for her.

But Vessae, Purposeful Librarian Pursuer, has one thing on her side above all others.

_Knowledge._

And there is a sound of shattering crystal and breaking glass, accompanied by a thunderclap and a wave of force which knocks them to the ground, save for the puppet of the Harbinger. As the light clears, they all see it. The emerald shape hovering above Vessae. Shifting and forming and pulsing with _power._

"I need _time,_" Vessae whispers.

And though it cannot be swayed, cannot be ordered, it can be _beseeched._ It moves faster than motion. Faster than sound. Faster than the trained eyes of Harbinger's servants can track it. But it moves, and it is gone. And in the midst of the Collectors, a mass of the swarming insects burn with golden light, and a man opens his eyes.

* * *

...

* * *

Once, there was weight, and cold. Kaleb was frozen, but conscious. It was stupid, being caught here. But he led them away, at least. He remembers running. Running from the bunker everyone else is in, where he had them hide while he lead them away. It was the stupidest thing he's ever done, he thinks.

Well, not _the_ stupidest. Possibly the bravest. Somewhere between hiding everyone from these monsters, and trying to _hack_ them with his omnitool when he figured out they were _wrong_ somehow and might be some sort of cyborg, the swarms hit him.

But now there is no weight. There is no cold.

There is only the Sun shining down upon him.

But it is warmer than the Sun of Earth. Warmer than the sun of Eden Prime. It is warmer than any sun, because he knows;

This is _his_ Sun.

**Within you I see a light which shines as bright as my own,**

** And I am humbled.**

** Your life has being heroic.**

** Your life has been wondrous.**

** And now, your life becomes something more.**

** Arise, my child, for your glory is at hand.**

** You are the sword, the shield, and the burning hand. Your trials shall overcome all others, but not you.**

** For you have been Chosen.**

And upon his brow, does the golden disc form at the center of the ring.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_They fought. On fields and beaches, on asteroids and moons. Across the galaxy, they fought. Across the galaxy, he fought. He drove them from fringe worlds and lost the core worlds. He lost ground to them with every battle while piling their servants like cordwood._

_ He watched the Empire die. It was already dying, even before he was chosen. But he watched __the end, watched the death._

_ He watched the Reapers drag the moon down upon Tylirel. He watched the last transmission._

_ "LAWGIVER!"_

_ A voice. Like hers. Strong and soft. So much like..._

_ "WE NEED YOU!"_

* * *

...

* * *

There is a flash of golden light, pure as the rays of the sun, and the Collectors go flying. They explode upward and outward from the ground, some flailing about and some going limp. It is neither force nor explosive which sends them flying, but pure, raw power.

Power overwhelming. Power supreme.

A young man with dark skin and blue eyes rises up, and the hollow sun blazes upon his forehead.

A flash and he moves, a blur of motion cutting through drones, Scions, constructs and swarms, clearing a path as the freed colonists fleet. A flash of his fists meeting the chest of the Harbinger avatar, and the possessed drone crumbles to dust.

And behind him, a fallen drone rises, glowing gold, and swings his fist. Kaleb's head rolls to the ground as his body crumbles, and the emerald shard flies out, through the avatar, through the lines of Collectors, and into a young woman as she piles her fellow colonists into a shuttle.

Her forehead shines with the hollow ring of the golden sun, and she opens her mouth to speak. She speaks in dead languages, holding her hands out. The mass of Collectors pause, weapons drawn. And they turn, opening fire on the avatar of Harbinger, reducing it to ash.

The shuttle lifts off as the Collectors fight and claw and shoot amongst themselves, the ancient words from the Solar stirring something within them- something from what they _were._ She watches them, turning to the departing shuttle, relief in her chest as she watches them speed off to safety.

And then there is the _sound._ The terrible base that makes her look up, and stare into the glowing red eye of the descending Reaper before the blast of red light vaporizes her where she stands.

* * *

...

* * *

There is a flash of gold in the distance, and a pillar of sunlight which reaches into the heavens. Vessae sees it as she runs. All this is, is distraction. All this will do is buy her _time._

"Lawgiver!" she shouts, "We need you!"

* * *

_..._

* * *

_He returned to Feros, the birthplace of his people. He descended to the base of the towers and fought their predators, the great Thoughtgods and Vine Tyrants who feasted upon his people when they were young. He stood in the mausoleum of the Solar Emperors from before they claimed the stars and took in their wisdom._

_ He fought in the corona of dying stars._

_ He watched his people die._

_ He saw the black holes at the center of the galaxy and sailed nebula upon the open bows of great ships._

_ He watched his people die._

_ He fought this war_

_ for nearly_

_ one hundred_

_ years._

_ And when he held the hand of the last Prothean soldier as he passed beyond the light of the stars, did he complete his task. He sealed away the shards of the Zenith and the Eclipse, and then sealed himself._

_ "They're dying! You need to wake up!"_

_ He had fought war for longer than a lifetime. His first memories were of a world burning. Everything he remembers, is death and destruction. A smile on a soldier's lips followed by the hollow look on his eyes when death takes him. Long days with her, followed by the cold static._

_ "I know you are there! The Reapers are coming!"_

_ There was only war. Only war and the inescapable, implacable enemy._

_ "They can be stopped! We've cut off the Citadel!"_

_ Again the voice. So much like her. But there is panic now. Fear. Loss. She was...whole...until the end. Until the moon carved its way into their world._

* * *

...

* * *

The golden fist slams into her chest and sends her bouncing across the farm. In the distance, she sees another golden pillar rising. Seconds later, she sees yet another. Vessae coughs out golden ichor, gripping the grass in her hands as she rises to one knee, looking up at the golden Collector before her, more of its fellows flanking it.

"**You have failed."** It hovers, floating towards her. "**The Eclipse has done nothing but cost the lives of the humans you hoped to save. These humans will be given ascension. And you will be given nothing but oblivion."**

Another golden pillar in the distance. All it did was buy her time. And not enough time.

"You _will_ be stopped," she breathes, "Eventually. This cycle or the next. The galaxy will stop you. Deus will stop you."

The golden eyes narrow on the avatar. Whether it is amused or perplex, she doesn't know. She doesn't know why it doesn't respond, or speak of how glorious the ascension is. All it does is stare. And then raise its fist, gathering the golden light upon its fingertips for the killing blow.

* * *

...

* * *

And three fingered hands ball into fists.

_You are needed._

A heartbeat in the darkness.

_You are needed._

The brow twitches, heavy with years. Beneath the lids, eyes twitch for the first time in ages.

_Your war is not over. __**You are needed.**_

* * *

...

* * *

And beneath Vessae's hands, the ground shakes and shifts. Harbinger's footing gives as the ground moves, as the Collectors whirl about in confusion and even the Reaper in the distance gives pause. The wind goes still and then turns into a spiral, forcing clouds to part and the sun to shine down upon the open field of slaughter.

The sun shines down. It flows across the land. It flows across the world, sunlight in waves like liquid gold. Like torrents of light it flows through the sky in great thick ribbons, a wave of light bright and large enough to be seen from orbit, washing over the panicking people, over the Collectors and the Reaper.

And flowing into the spot where Vessae stands. Her eyes go wide and she leaps, as the ground where she stood cracks and glows white. A great silver mandala of spheres forms as Harbinger takes a step back, rumbling with enough force to make the Collectors and the Reaper takes a step back.

And the ground explodes.

It rises as it shatters, sending miles of earth into the sky. Not flying, but the soil was floating in the air, held aloft by the white light.

Beneath them, miles beneath the surface of Eden Prime, the honeycomb tomb glows with flowing sunlight.

And above them, the white light becomes a golden pillar that stretches into space. It forms as an outline, then becomes solid. A circle of gold and red and green, shifting into a more and more elaborate halo at the center of the beam.

And the only thing louder than the roar of the light and the wind and the flowing sunlight is the roar of _rage_ from the figure suspended within it.

There is a blur of motion. It comes from the beam as it fades, darting across floating soul before landing in front of Harbinger. Four eyes glow gold upon the gray face. His armor is sleek and red, the poltroons and shoulder fins traded for leather jerkins and light mail.

Liquid gold flows over his face and the seams of his armor. The golden disk forms a ring on his brow, flanked by rays of sunlight.

It is Harbinger who makes the first move. Its fist strikes out, the stored power with which it would slay the alchemical brought to bear on the one before it. The Prothean, however, simply catches the fist.

The hand clenches, and the avatar's arm shatters. He strikes, and his fist goes through the golden collector's chest and out the other side. Ash falls around him. His golden eyes narrow.

"I am Javik." His fists clench. His knuckles crack loud enough to be heard by the staring orichalcum. "**And I am the Dawn."**

* * *

...

* * *

The host has fallen, to mass firepower and the weapons of the Reapers. It expands its _self_ across Eden Prime, across this entire verdant world, searching for one worthy of the power, worthy of the heroism that it represents. But it finds nothing. There is none here that are worthy to hold it. But on the periphery, it _does_ sense someone.

Not on this world. But it sees a shining light that shines brighter than the distant star it orbits. A shining beacon of hope, heroism, and will.

And with that, the Exaltation shard of the Eclipse rises. Its form shifts between physical and spiritual, and the air around it ignites as it rises through cloud and rain, through debris and atmosphere. It takes mere seconds to leave the world, to achieve orbit and break free of such trivial things as gravity.

The heat of space cannot warm it. The stellar wind cannot hurt it. It is timeless, and endless. Should all the universe fade away, it will still exist with its brethren, a twinkle in the nothingness.

And then there is the _sound._ The horn of the abomination that flies towards it. The voice of Harbinger booming that it must be _taken._

But it cannot. For it is the Exaltation, catalyzed in the full power of perfection incarnate. It cannot be moved, it cannot be ordered, and it certainly cannot be _taken_ against its will.

The Reaper is named **Pale Litany of Dirge.** The Exaltation takes in its name, takes in its purpose. But it does not stop. The invincible shard meets the god-ship.

And the Exaltation drives right through the Sovereign. Through the glowing eye of its main gun, driving through the guts and oblivioncancer and structure and core, bursting out the other side. Dirge is given but a moment to realize what has happened, and allows itself to laugh before it shatters.

The Exaltation continues on its way.

* * *

...

* * *

The Collectors open fire. Javik moves. His hands whip through the air, and the bullets stop, turn, and fly back, painting the ground with blood and chitin as he makes his slow advance. The weapons of mere mortals may not harm the Lawgiver. To fire upon them is blasphemy and shall be treated as such.

Across Eden Prime, the Collectors look up from their work. Frozen humans are left where they lay. Coffins and containers are left empty. A new, overriding directive fills their minds.

**Secure the Solar Exalted.**

The skies fill with them. Buzzing, clacking, clicking sounds fill the air, as the seals upon the black stone tower of the Collector ship open to unveil the full brunt of their forces. Great insects the size of shuttles, walking abominations and armies of husks pile through, charging across the verdant fields of Eden Prime and ignoring the huddling, hiding, and prone.

All of them rushing towards the four eyed figure standing before the crater.

A burst of steam from his flat nostrils. His hands clench into fists, and Javik begins to walk. The sun blazes upon his brow and he begins his march, bare feet crashing earth beneath him. The twitch on his brow, the flare of his nostrils, the tensing of his muscles, all are mere signs. But as the Collectors descend on him, they only see what is obvious.

A Praetor lands in front of him, squating on six legs and opening fire with beams of concentrated force. He catches it in his hand and buries his arm to the shoulder in its chest, pulling out the black sphere of its heart and wading through the explosion.

The army descends upon him.

But all who stand against the Lawgiver are doomed to failure.

They assemble. They charge. Javik extends his hand and the sunlight gathers on his palm. It takes shape and takes form, and becomes something large, and long, and round. The gun in his hand primes, called forth from the nothing, and Javik smiles.

Drones go flying by the hundreds. Husks die by the thousands. At the center, for those who are brave enough to stare through the bursts of plasma and the pillar of sunlight, they can see the figure at the center as he fights an entire army and _wins._

He is not poetic. His combat is not beautiful or graceful. Instead, from on high, he could be seen as a golden bull charging through their lines, emptying their numbers with fists and firepower, charging through the black mass and towards the black, insectoid tower looming on high.

Javik roars. He roars with rage, with pain, with fifty thousand years of hate towards this great foe. **Masterful Harrier of the Weak **roars in response, braces its great legs upon the earth, and lets fly the beam. It carves through the numbers of the Collectors. It burns the fields of Eden Prime. It strikes the Exalted.

There is a scream. Collectors burn. The Praetors and Scions explode. The ground around the Prothean bursts into flame and melts into glass, and he is thrown backwards, screaming as the air around him catches fire.

The prothean bounces, bones breaking and setting, rolling to a stop as he lays still. Another blast of the horn, and the red light strikes again. The ground ignites, turning to dust and carried along by the force, and he screams as it hits. Fingers dig into the earth, dragging channels along it as he is pushed back, past the huddling Vessae, past his old tomb.

He rises to his feet, his skin smoldering and his mouth dripping with liquid metal. He slowly rises and falls to one knee, looking up at the sound of the horn. The low, bass roar of the old enemy. The massive tower that is his foe.

The horn sounds. The terrible sound that haunts his dreams. _His worlds burning. His people dying. The timeless struggle. The inevitable loss._

_"They're leaving! The Reapers are exiting the atmosphere! It looks like they're entering a formation around the main-_"

His people knew the Exaltation better than most. They knew the great, overwhelming power. But they also knew the terrible price it held. They knew that there were _limits._ That there were _inevitabilities._

The sound that comes from Javik's throat is not human, not animal. But something deeper. Something baser. Something coming from the pit of his soul as the red begins to fleck in at the corners of his golden eyes. The sun burns upon his brow, and he stands to stare at the Sovereign as it flashes its weapon once more and opens fire.

And the beam washes off Javik's bare hand as he roars. Liquid metal splashes the air and ground around him. Collectors shriek as the weapon of their master strikes them, but the Dawn does not falter. Fist extended, his fingers burn, his eyes watering and clothes burning as he drives one foot in front of the other.

The steady beam pulses, becoming an advancing wall of liquid metal. Both hands in front of him, the pain becomes an afterthought as the metal burns his flesh. He inhales the scent of the Collectors as they burst into flame around them. He roars as he charges, faster and faster with each step.

The red mist before him is the same color as the red of his eyes. His fingers curl into fists and he charges. Bare knuckles meet the beam, sending bursts of red into the retreating armies of the Collectors. They run on instinct. They realize, deep down, this is no longer their battle.

The horn echoes in time with the roar of the Lawgiver. The beam cuts out and Javik charges, arms behind him, his leather jerkin burning off his back. He moves faster than any mortal. He crosses the kilometers in seconds.

Six of its legs slam into the ground, hard enough to send a tremor for miles. Its main leg, its center leg, rises. Blue light runs up it, illuminating the seams as it brings it down. The air around the leg ignites. The wind shrieks as it descends.

Javik skids to a stop. Golden and red eyes stare at the descending leg, and he braces, slamming his feet on the ground to the sound of his shoes bursting. A halo of gold and ruby bursts into existence behind him, as do four arms of liquid sunlight.

Three fists meet the descending arm of the Reaper. Two of them splash, the third breaking, bending unnaturally before snapping back into place.

Three more fists collide with the black arm of the machine god. The hands of sunlight break into golden petals. The fist compresses upon itself like a sponge, but he does not falter. The ground beneath him turns to powder as the Reaper leans upon him. The spray of liquid metal over his skin shatters. His feet disappear into the soil. The Reaper roars.

But none may stand against the Lawgiver. It is this truth that is made manifest to the Reaper as its leg rises, cracks, and finally shatters. The roar of the Reaper warbles as it rises. Legs go limp and begin to fold against its body as it rises into the air.

But it is too late.

For it sees the blurred form as it leaps from the ground. He rises faster than the Reaper, higher than him. The millennial old, supremely advanced optics of the **Harrier** train upon the prothean as he descends, golden disk on his brow and chambered hand pulsing with sunlight. In that moment, the horn gives way to coherent voice.

"**No!"**

The main eye of the dreadnought flashes and fires, but all it connects with are the bare fists of the Dawn. He flies, fist first, into the Reaper. The Reaper shakes, shudders. Another impact, which echoes with a warbling horn, and then another. It echoes through the sky like a lightning storm. The Reaper spasms, as do the remaining Collectors below, grabbing their heads as they hear the death scream of their god.

The tentacles of the Reaper convulse and shake, bending and spasming outwards, flickers of red running along its weapons and its frame. The central eye flickers, pulses, and rolls back into its bulk.

There is a roar. It is like the horn of the Reaper, but warbling, weak, and high pitched. As the Collectors pitch forward and drop dead, and as the Collector ship itself falls silent, Vessae looks up and realizes what it is.

The death cry of a Sovereign. A plea, for mercy.

But the thunders cease as Javik bursts through the other side, descending fist first to the ground and landing in a crouch. Turning, looking skyward, he allows himself a brief smile as he watches the Reaper shatter, raining debris down upon Eden Prime.

Slowly, he begins to walk, back towards what was his tomb, and towards the golden alchemical. The red mist of the evaporating metal wafts off bare shoulders. His tunic is gone, showing the numerous scars, the thousands of what appear to be grains of sands falling out of his flesh. Pausing he looks down. Seizing his forearm, he sets the bone and continues.

Humans, the inhabitants of this world, watch him. Their stasis undone, their freedom returned to them, there are dozens, hundreds, thousands watching him as he makes his march towards Vessae.

"You are Prothean," he says. His voice is steady, but like rocks grinding.

She nods. "I was sent to find you. The Reapers are returning."

He nods. "Of course they are." He turns, staring at his tomb. Then turns to see the assembled humans. "This war never ends. But I will need any army." Nostrils flare. Eyes narrow. "We will start here."

* * *

...

* * *

The black gloved hands come down on the shoulders of the tanned man sitting in the large chair. "Him? Well, he's the boss. Until he wasn't the boss, and that pissed him off. Never get on his bad side, but he's got a wonderful sense of rhythm." Mister Sunshine smiles, showing yellow teeth. "We all do. We're monsters, but we're _refined."_

He sashays past the throned lunatic, past the sleeping, bound man and to the others. Jack follows. Odd, he thinks. He thinks of himself as _Jack_, now. Not as _Illusive Man._ How long has it been since he referred to himself by his given name?

"This _isn't_ an asylum, is it?"

Sunshine's arm wraps around his shoulder. He could have _sworn_ he was in front of him. "Of course _it isn't_. What do you call a lie with which you tell the truth with, by wrapping it with symbols and double meanings?"

Jack arches an eyebrow. They pass a young woman surrounded by a cloud of smoke and open pill bottles. "A metaphor."

The smile again, showing yellow teeth. "Oh I _like_ you."

A pat on the back. They move past others, past a leathery pillow fort and past a woman staring, checking off a list of rules.

Again, Jack finds himself standing in front of the young woman, arranging marbles in a geometric pattern. "A metaphor, if you will." Sunshine circles her. She glares at him, moving her marbles. "Observe this young girl here. She is like you and I. She has goals. Ambitions. _Lusts._ Especially unclean ones."

He nudges a marble. She smacks away his hand and fixes it. "Orderly. Obsessive Compulsive, you would say. But like all of us, she wears the mask of sanity and complacency. At least, until we were exiled from our home." The yellow teeth flash. "We never counted how many people she _killed_ in her _blind rage."_

Jack's eyes narrow. He circles the girl, taking care not to step on her marbles. "This isn't an asylum. You're not people. You're not inmates."

"Yes. Yes. No." The black hands come down on Jack's shoulders. Sunshine smiles, sucks breath through his teeth. "Jack. Jaaaaaack. We're monstrous. We're monsters. But we're also _wronged."_

He nods towards the window and observation room. "Our jailers. The alcoholic overachiever. The sexual deviant. The sisters who are slaves to their work. And of course, the ones who betrayed us, too. We were betrayed by our..." He sucks his teeth. "Kin."

"Kin?"

"Oh, two of them." Yellow eyes roll. "I can't blame her, of course. We made something for her to fall in love with and we made it too well. But let me tell you, Jack, of our old, old, crippled brother. Who could make anything." The eyes narrow. "Save for a **fucking spine** to make his life bearable."

The arm reaches around his shoulder. Sunshine shakes his head. "We were betrayed. Castrated. Mutilated. And imprisoned. And in return for power overwhelming. For great might beyond the station of mere mortals, all we ask is that you work to free us."

Sunshine examines his fingers. He cocks an eyebrow. "My offer, of course. I will give you power, wisdom, and a...assistant that will aid you. Especially as you try to drive the knife into the back of my spherical kin."

Jack nods. "Deal." He takes Sunshine's hand, shaking it as the yellow eyed man smiles.

"Jaaaaack." He smiles wider. "We're going to get along-"

* * *

...

* * *

The ward disappears. Sunshine disappears. Jack Harper finds himself in the darkness, alone, with his hand extended.

And then, in front of him, two eyes, glowing yellow with cat like slits, and far, far larger than him open.

**"Beautifully."**


	11. The Heist

The problem, Jane Shepard realizes, is that she's gone up a cup size, so none of the...well, _the_ dress she owned no longer fits her, at least not without making it look like she's trying to smuggle pillows. Goto, on the other hand, has managed to provide her with several dresses. One of which she is trying on. Turning in the mirror, she wonders to herself how idiotic one has to be to wear a dress that is this skimpy, this low cut, and make out of what is apparently polished leather.

She wiggles her ass. In the mirror, she watches it shake. God damn, she thinks. She's a looker, now. She was relying on force of personality before she got the magical kung fu bullshit thingy between her souls, but now she can turn heads.

No wonder Lawson wanted to teach her how to strut.

"So hey," Shepard says, peaking her head out of the dressing room to find Kasumi sitting on the bench and reading a magazine, "What's the deal with you and Taylor?"

She glances up. For some reason, she's still in that catsuit with the hood, but no one's as much as giving her a second look. "When I had my breakdown, he helped me get my head on straight. There's nothing _serious_ right now, but we're going to go on a date when we get back."

Shepard cocks an eyebrow. "Isn't he a little young for you?"

"I think the 'half plus eight' rule only applies when you're still mortal, really. Otherwise my options would be Krogans and Asari." She closes the magazine. "Besides which, have you seen his abs? You could grate _cheese_ on them."

Jane rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "So, let me get this straight. You had the opportunity to go on a date with with Taylor, who you've been checking you since we got off Deus, and you chose this. Why?"

Kasumi folds her hands in her lap, crossing her legs. "While I admit, the possibility of breaking my dry spell in a most spectacular fashion was appealing, do you know what would make me feel even better?"

"Revenge?"

Kasumi's mouth parts into a full smile. That little part of Jane that keeps checking out Liara admits, she has a very nice smile.

"Shepard, I think you and I are going to get along _splendidly."_

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

**The Heist**

* * *

The chair leans back. Plastic legs creak and wobble as he glances between the datapad and the drink, giving both the utmost attention. Much of it is classified, but the jargon in the report is so dense that only someone with his clearance would understand it in the first place. Rubbing his jaw, he sips the drink, glancing around the dark lounge between bursts of colorful lights.

A glance at the bar. He sees some humans, a turian, and a salarian. Three of them are talking, slapping the salarian on the back. Glancing the other direction, towards the lounge proper, he sees the tv. The news about Valern has gotten out. Never talked with him, but met him.

Damn shame.

There is shouting from the lounge. He turns, clicking off the datapad. Encryption rolls over the screen as it shuts off and he sips his drink, giving his full attention to what he sees. Turian, yeah. And a female one at that. He can count the number he's seen on one hand, honestly.

He can see them arguing. Body language is the first give away. The guy is tilting as he's yelling. There's the languidness in his shoulders, the slur in his speech. Omnitools and universal translators are very good at recognizing when someone is stone drunk, and this one definitely is. He can't tell the exact words, but he can tell that she's not happy with him.

The punch is the other sign. His fist catches her on the side of the head, right against the flat plating, where the head crest is on the guy. He sides his chair out, standing from the table and walking. He's ranting, drunken. Doesn't know the relationship between the two. Doesn't care. There's one thing that sets him off, though, and it's this.

He crosses the lounge. He's fast, but quiet. Everyone is too busy watching the one-sided fight to notice the human approaching. No one sees him until he grabs the turian's forearm on the backswing. "Hands off. Last warning."

His eyes narrow, and meet the turian. "Leave. Go home and dry off. Last chance."

The turian swings. He mutters something guttural, swearing at the human. Something about them never minding their damn business. Something about how they should've been glassed. Normal drunk speciesist crap they tend to yell when they're that sopped, and he's heard enough to ignore it.

He doesn't get angry. Instead, he moves. He blocks the punch on his forearm, deflecting the fist to the side before swinging, a punch to the centerline between his chest and stomach knocking the wind from him, bending him over just enough for his uppercut to catch him on the forehead.

The turian stumbles back. Wonderful, he thinks. He's drunk enough to not go down.

Instead, he grabs a bottle, smashes it on the bar, and charges him.

He makes it two steps before he _glows,_ electricity sparking over him. A groan, and he collapses unconscious to the floor.

"Disappointing. _Tsk tsk._ Would have thought he recognized systems alliance uniform. Have sent video to C-Sec so they know you didn't start this fight."

Behind the turian, the salarian clicks off his omnitool and adjusts the collar of a white doctor's uniform. The first thing he notices is the missing horn and the body language. Not as much twitchy as he is _active,_ observing. Noticing everything around him, glancing around the bar before glancing at him.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." The salarian walks over, stepping over the unconscious turian. "Kaidan Alenko, yes? You will be serving on the SSV Normandy following refit?"

Kaidan nods, cocking an eyebrow. "Yeah. I've been asked to be the XO. How did you-"

"Appointed by Salarian Dalatrasses as special observer." He extends a hand. "Mordin Solus, STG. Retired. Still have clearance."

* * *

...

* * *

The dress comes down to just above her knees. It's black, but not shiny like that leather monstrosity. No sleeves, but that's most of what it leaves uncovered, with a major exception. She turns to her side, grits her teeth, and flexes.

Yep, she thinks. Even outside of the leather fetish dress, she's still got an ass. She needs to go clubbing when this is done. Flaunt it. Maybe get a bar fight going so she can place bets.

She hears the tearing sound, and mutters to herself. Looking down, she sees the tear along the seem, up her right leg. Fuck, she thinks. Fuckity fuck fuck balls. She'll have to see if there's another one, because she likes this one. It's not too flashy, doesn't make her look _too _easy, and she _likes_ black.

Well, there's that circle right at her chest, underneath the collar that gives a good look at her cleavage, but she might as well show off _something._

Shoving side the curtain, she steps out of the dressing room. Kasumi cocks an eyebrow. "You could hide a gun in that cleavage."

"I could hide a grenade launcher." She presses her hands against the sides, lifting them up and letting them bounce. "I'm _stacked._"

"You are. I was a bit on the stick side before I got my exaltation, myself." Kasumi shrugs. "Now I'm stacked like a milk crate."

Jane cocks her head. That euphemism sounded...off. Odd. "What century's that from?"

The thief purses her lips, thinking. "Mid twentieth." Shepard cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm old. No need to remind me, Shepard. Using that dress?"

"Yeah. Rip in it, though." She turns to the side, showing the tear up the leg. Kasumi shrugs, swinging up to her feet.

"Gimme it. I can sew it up." Jane nods, backing into the dressing room. A moment and a shuffle of fabric, and the dress flies over the top of the dressing room and into Kasumi's hands as she disappears into another dressing room.

Topless, Jane turns and admires herself in the mirror. "It's a good dress. Good support, to. The top was acting like a sports bra."

"Shepard, we're going to this big party and you're thinking about whether the little black dress is practical?"

Jane shrugs, facing the mirror. She purses her lips and the corners quirk up. Her pectorals flex, and she watches the bounce. "Well, I've got a _lot_ more to support. Which's kind of weird."

"Well, yes. Exaltations kind of make us how we're meant to be." A humming, followed by the sound of a sewing machine. "I was a stick little girl when I hit the magic bullshit jackpot, now look at me. You're just looking like you should."

"I should look like a comic book superhero?"

"It fits. And why are you paying so much attention to those? I swear, Shepard, _men_ don't pay as much attention to your breasts as you are."

She shrugs, swaying from side to side. "Look, they're _huge._ I is good shape for years and they never were that _big._ It's not like I was ugly or anything, but now..."

"You're bigger than T'Soni and turn heads like Tali?"

Shepard cocks an eyebrow. A hand thrusts into the dressing room, holding the dress. "Shepard, I'm five hundred years old. I've known a lot of people like you, and the keyword I'd use for them is _practical."_ Shepard takes the dress, pulling it on.

"Yeah, I'm practical alright." She mutters, zipping up the back. "What's weird is that it hasn't affected my balance. I'd think going up a size would mean I'd have to relearn how to _walk,_ you know. But all I have to worry about is tying them down."

She walks out of the dressing room, rolling her shoulders. Kasumi is on the bench, waiting. "Feels a bit looser."

"I made improvements," Kasumi responds with a smile. Clapping her hands, she stands, walking to the door and opening it. White butterflies flutter out as she walks through, and Shepards follows her to step into the compartment of a shuttle.

"Please tell me we didn't steal this dress."

"I bought it online."

Jane follows her into the cockpit, arms folded. "You have money?"

"Interest off of several accounts." The consoles light up. The windshield turns transparent, showing the opaque greens of the Serpent Nebula. "And we're off."

* * *

...

* * *

The general consensus was that, while Cerberus is very good at making ships and gathering resources, they were _also_ good at cutting corners. The Alliance was already planning a second Normandy. He's old enough that he remembers the last Star Trek reboot back in the 2130's, and that little romantic in him realized that the Normandy had become the Alliance's Enterprise.

Steven Hackett, Admiral. Fleet Admiral, in fact. Following the Battle of the Citadel, he was promoted to head of the Alliance fleet. When Anderson told him Shepard was alive and the new Normandy was being handed over to the Alliance, he made it a point to inspect it personally.

The techs will need at least six months to bring this ship up to spec. Things like moving the armory down from the command center, adapting the QEC to fleet headquarters and simple engine reinforcement will take months.

Then, Hackett stepped into the crew quarters on deck three.

"Oh what the fuck."

The old admiral runs a hand over his trimmed goatee, glancing from the coconut tree, to the bar, to the eighteen legged spider cat standing in front of him. Glancing at his hand, he quickly throws back the scotch, idly wondering how Shepard managed to get a bottle of that onto the Normandy and _how in God's name there is a tropical island inside the Normandy._

"So." He rubs his jaw. Is that an actual _beach?_ "How much to have one of these installed on my ship?"

* * *

...

* * *

The screen folds out of the console, displaying the man. Tall, severe, thin. A precisely trimmed goatee on his face, the black hairs just dark enough to indicate that he dyes the grays. Everything about him, from the video showing how he walks, to the white, tailored suit, screams one word in Jane's mind.

_Douchebag._

"This our guy?"

"Donovan Hock," Kasumi explains, pilot controls moving under her fingertips as the black of space gives way to the blue of atmosphere, "Arms dealer. Mercenary paycheck-writer. All around bad guy. Also, fan of the arts."

Her lips quirk up. "Few months back, Keiji, my partner, and I ran into him during a job. We were doing an intelligence raid, and Hock's goons caught us." The lips straighten. "I got away. Keiji didn't. Hock took Keiji's graybox, a memory backup implant, and I want it back."

Jane nods. "So this is the job? We're stealing that?"

"That's the _first_ thing we're stealing." Blue eyes narrow. "Then I'm stealing everything else. When we're done, Hock's going to have one single credit to his name."

The lips quirk down. The blue eyes glow faintly underneath the hood. "You don't _steal_ from me. You don't take the people I care about." Gloved fingers twitch. "You just don't."

Jane nods, leaning back. "I understand that completely. Ever hear of Elysium?"

Kasumi glances over. "Right. You fought off the Skylian Blitz by yourself. In a towel."

"Found out later that it was a full scale invasion force, and I cut right through them." Jane chuckles, shaking her head. "They were between me and my cousin. So yeah, I get you on this. What's the plan?"

A screen folds out, showing a very, very familiar face. "In the cargo hold of this shuttle, we have a solid gold statue of your old friend, Saren Arterius. He's loaded up with your armor and our guns. We're going to disable Hock's security system, make some distractions, and then I'm going to steal his house."

"His house."

"I bought some land on Illium." Kasumi smiles, folding her hands. "I think his house would look _lovely_ there."

The pictures fold down. "Your alias is, nominally, Misses Sarah Gunn. I estimate this will last five seconds. So you're going to be getting attention, turning heads, and keeping eyes off little old me."

Jane cocks an eyebrow. She looks down. "Explains the little black dress. So you're saying a Spectre, Alliance Commander and N7 Marine's sole job here is to be eye candy?"

"Yes. In essence, I _did_ in fact bring you along so people could watch your tits jiggle." Jane glares, narrowing green eyes. "Don't give me that look. It'll be fun. Anyway, show time."

The shuttle lands on the open platform, seatbelts disengaging and the side door opening. Jane exits and is hit by the scents- imported trees, imported flowers. Sheer, raw nature hits her. This is a garden world, alright. A very, very well crafted garden world.

Before her is a mansion of steel and glass and plastics, rising higher than that office building the Broker tries to blow up on Illium. Mercenaries- ones with the blue sun logo- move crates, move supplies. She turns and sees the statue being carted out of the back of the shuttle.

She and Kasumi walk to the stairs and the main entrance to the mansion. The doors open, and accompanied by a very large man in black, red lined armor, Donovan Hock strides down the stairs to meet them.

"Miss Sarah Gunn," he says, in an accent that is somewhere between british and incomprehensible, "Or, should I say, Miss _Jane Shepard?" _Jane glances to Kasumi. Kasumi simply smiles. "I must say, the attempt to hide your identity was charming, but unnecessary. I am, myself, a large fan."

He stops in front of them, extends an arm to his side and bows like a showman. "Donovan Hock, at your service. Welcome to my celebration." He glances at Kasumi. Well, more glances at her legs, then stops at her chest, and finally at her face. "And who is your lovely companion?"

Kasumi smiles. "Kasumi Goto. I'm a master thief, and I'm here to rob you blind."

Jane freezes in place. Her eyes dart at the smiling thief. Hock, on the other hand, just laughs. "Very clever!" He bows, again. "Enjoy your stay, and please, tell me if you need anything." He turns and walks up the stairs, accompanied by the guard.

The doors close, and Jane whirls on the thief. "The _fuck_ was that?"

Kasumi's smile only grows wider. "I'm a _sidereal._ I can lie with the truth." The lips curl upward, showing teeth. "And he's even _more_ susceptible than I expected. So's all his security people."

The gloved hand grabs Jane's wrist, pulling her along as they climb the stairs. "Time's wasting, Shepard. This is going to be _glorious."_

* * *

...

* * *

Neil Barret looks down. Midway through his third lap around the vehicle hangar and armory underneath Hock's mansion, the young Eclipse soldier noticed the white envelope that appeared in front of him. Bending down, his armor and bodysuit creek as curiosity gets the best of him and he flips the letter over.

"Neil Barret, Vehicle Hangar, Donovan Hock's Mansion." He blinks. Did he read that address right?

His omnitool flares and extends a thin blade, running it along the edge of the letter and opening it. Dropping the envelope to the floor, he unfolds the note and tilts his head.

"'What's in the box?'" He blinks. "What's in the box?"

He drops the letter, spotting another envelope in the floor a few feet away. Walking over to it, he flips it over and confirms that, yes, it is also addressed to him. Tearing it open, he stares at the letter.

"What's in the box?" He stares. Sees another envelope a few steps away, but off of his patrol path. "What _is_ in the box?"

* * *

...

* * *

After Sovereign was destroyed and before the Normandy was ambushed over Alchera, Shepard, Liara, and Tali had a girl's night out before they had to go their separate ways. It involved a bar, a very large tab, and Jane taking it upon herself to personally pummel anyone who tried to take advantage of her surrogate little sister.

Tali, as well, made it her mission that night to pummel anyone, such as Liara, who tried to take advantage of an inebriated Shepard. Not that Liara would have, but the tension between the commander and the doctor was more than evident even before Jane got the metaphysical boob job.

The thing was, _the thing was,_ Jane didn't get hit on in that night out, except by Liara. Compared with a quarian girl, which fulfills most of the fetishes for she thinks all the bipedal alien races, and an asari, a modestly attractive red haired human didn't turn heads.

As she walks through the lobby of Hock's mansion, Jane Shepard can _feel_ eyes on her.

She can hear whistles. Conversations stop as she passes. Next to her, Kasumi smirks, and Jane cracks her knuckles as she consciously suppresses her normal response, which is to stomp around like a Krogan.

Glances from side to side confirm something else, something surprising. The men, and some women, are staring at parts other than her chest. She catches a few glancing at her legs, a few at her tucchus, and an occasional soul actually looking at her _face._ She smirks, glancing over to Kasumi.

"Still not sure why you asked me."

"My original idea was to ask Tali, but I realized that if anyone made a pass on her you'd descend on this party like the fist of an angry god."

"Point."

"Alternatively," Kasumi says with a shrug, "You're being stared at, and for good reason. I don't go for women, but the dress looks good on you." They pass the fountain at the center, past Hock who is speaking with the same large man from earlier. "And admit it, you like being checked out. You can break any person here who tries anything. Put effort into it, and you can have them all eating out the palm of your hand."

Jane shrugs, walking past man in a blue suns uniform, talking with a women and talking about some refinery business. "Okay, good point."

"And when, Commander, was the last time you were on a date?"

They walk down the stairs, down to the narrow hallway. Jane purses her lips and cocks her eyebrow. "...date?"

"Well, that explains _everything."_ Kasumi comes to a halt. The orange construct of an omnitool appears around her left hand, and the wall in front of them flickers, flashes, and becomes a door. It slides open, and the thief steps into the large room.

Jane's eyes don't go to the computer, or the criss cross of lasers at the far end or the monitors. Instead, they go to the statue of the turian placed against the right wall. Hands folded behind her, she stares at the likeness of Saren Arterius.

"Hock likes Saren. That's why I had the statue done." Kasumi paces in front of the door, arms folded. "Both are ruthless bastards, both have a carte blanche because they're useful. It makes sense."

"Was Saren like me?" Kasumi turns, tilting her head. "Was Saren like me?" Jane repeats, "Was he a Solar?"

Kasumi shakes her head, wandering to the console on the left. "Okay...voice analyzer. Right. And no, Saren couldn't have been the Zenith. If he was, he couldn't have been indoctrinated. And he couldn't have exalted after being indoctrinated. You need to have free will to exalt, as I understand it."

Her head tilts, waving an omnitool over the console on the right. "Aaaaand DNA analyzer. Okay. Right. Anyway, Autodono explained it to me that Swillin can take control of you if you're _not_ Exalted. Looks like the exaltations look for free will _and_ keep you from being mind controlled."

"Swillin?"

"She Who Lives in Her Name. The glass ball thingy which got into the argument with Auto." She taps her foot. "Kinetic barrier, too. Anyway, mind control is, like, the least of your worried with Autodono's family. We're basically control-proof, and if you're being controlled you can't exalt. Hence, Saren wasn't a Solar."

The thief claps her hand and smiles. "So! DNA scanner, password system, voice recognition and a cruiser-grade kinetic barrier. Advanced and expensive, but simple if you know what to do."

"Right." Shepard looks down, digging one of her pointed heels into the floor. Odd, she thinks. She hasn't faceplanted. "So you're going to magic it?"

"No. No no no." Kasumi shakes her head, folding her arms. "Siddy magic doesn't work when stealing _physical_ things. It's more metaphysical or metaphorical stealing. We're going to do this the practical way." She smiles. "Here's the plan."

* * *

...

* * *

The collar of the shirt is making his neck itch. He promised to be a good boy and wore a high collar, too, so he could hide the tattoos and the scars. If he wasn't being paid so god damn much, he'd have an issue with it.

"So it must be so interesting," the woman in front of him continues, tilting her hips at him in that way that just sort of says _bone me,_ "Working for her. What's she like? Is she seeing anyone?" He stares. Yes, of course, he thinks. He's right here, he hasn't seen any action since _First Contact,_ and he's being used as a god damn proxy 'cause someone wants to nail his boss.

"My boss' personal life isn't any of my business." That's as professional as he's getting with that. "Unless you're interested in moving to Omega, I'd say she's not interested, either."

She narrows her eyes and purses her lips. She's tall, blonde. Nice rack. Still, he knows his boss' type. This ain't her type. Message is sent and received, and the girl walks away.

Nice ass, though.

"Nice ass, though." Oh, there we go, he thinks. Never thought he'd be the subtle one in a partnership. "Nice moves, cyclops. Forget to club her and drag her back to the cave, or you letting her fatten up before winter?"

He grumbles, rolling his eyes. "High praise from you. At least I don't complain when someone wants me to wear a fucking shirt. Amount of noise you made getting dressed was like when my grandma'd dress her cat."

She hisses. Naturally, she hisses. She tugs at the collar of her suit, shifts her hips and rolls her shoulders. So not only is he in an actual god damned suit for this, but so's the bald tattoo'ed biotic psycho he's partnered with. Like their boss had some sort of sense of god damned irony putting Jack in a suit, complete with tie and gloves.

"No one'd better be looking at my ass," she mutters.

"What ass?" he responds.

"Boys." They turn. Someday, Zaeed Massani swears, he is going to figure out how one of the most notorious crime bosses in known space can sneak up on people like that. In front of them, the asari folds her arms, narrows her eyes, and nods her head to the stairs.

"Yeah, boss?" he asks.

"Shepard's here," Aria T'Loak says, cocking her head to the stairs, "Hock saw through the disguise in less than a minute. Jack." The tattoo'ed woman nods. "Power up our shuttle."

A name. _The_ name. He hears it on the periphery, turning from his paycheck to the crowd. "Zaeed." Well, that's not good. Aria taking _that_ tone's never good. He pushes down the _thing_ in his gut and turns back to her.

"Sorry, boss," he responds, "Heard someone say something about Vido."

"Chase down your boyfriend later, Massani," Jack says, loosening her tie, "Figure Shepard'd take, what, five minutes to improv a nuke with her ship?"

Nuke, Zaeed thinks. Oh, right. _Virmire._ Wouldn't want to be at the center of one of those. "I'll say our goodbyes."

* * *

...

* * *

"What's in the box?" He crumples the letter and tosses it over his head, spotting the envelope on the floor and running towards it. "What's in the _box?!"_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"Okay. First thing's first, we need a voice sample. Hock likes to talk. You need to get him talking."_ She can almost hear Kasumi smiling as she walks towards the fountain. She's not swaying her hips. She's not going to sway her hips. She's going to _walk,_ albeit not like a Krogan. In heels.

"_I should point out, Shepard, that you can walk in heels now. Because, well, that's kind of how Solars learn. You do something, you end up being great at it. So yeah, you can walk in heels."_ Jane narrows her eyes. "_Not sure about dancing, yet."_

Shepard mutters. It's not that she's a bad dancer, she just has other shit on her mind. Waving her arms like an idiot is how she blows off steam.

That and shooting things.

Well, she could talk someone into blowing his head off _before_ she started to glow, so she just has to resist punchsploding Hock if he checks out her rack. Simple enough. Simple plan. Thankfully, she read the briefing and everyone in this building's an unrepentant ass stain on the galaxy.

"_Also, Shep? I _know_ you asked Tali to set up your omnitool so you could flash form blades with it, so if there's a series of mysterious stabbing incidents at this party, I'll know it was you, 'kay?"_

"Spoilsport."

And there he is, she thinks. White suit. Shame if he got blood on it, flanked by a guy who could stand in for a krogan. Big, bearded, muscular. She could kick his ass, but anyway. He turns as she approaches, smiling and raising a cocktail glass. "Commander! Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah," she responds, smiling. Well, she isn't lying. She's enjoying planning how she's going to screw this scumbag over. "Big party you have here." Eyes wander over the crowd. Slavers, mobsters, arms dealers. Man, what she wouldn't give for an STG team and an engine. "You throw these often?"

He nods. "Indeed. A necessity, if you will. A service to my fellows, as we strive to do what must be done."

Her head tilts. What the _hell_ is that accent. "Which is?"

"We keep the barbarians at the gates, of course." He raises his glass. Conversation stops throughout the lobby. "We are the wetworkers and soldiers, Commander. We are the armsmen, the armorers and the laborers, the tireless sentinels that guard civilization." His gaze passes over the crowd, passing over the present assembled.

"Is what we do ugly? Oh, of course. But it is _necessary._ We are mercenaries, but mercenaries are a necessity. Are we the violent and bloodthirsty? No doubt, commander." He nods to her. "But as you can see, violence is often the _last_ but _most expedient_ solution. We are the ones relied on but shunned. The ones who do the dark deeds so the naïve may sleep at night."

Raising the glass, there is a clink of crystal on crystal as dozens more are lifted into the air. "A toast, my fellow armsmen, bladesmiths and suppliers! May there always be a market for the dark things we do! May we always have a place to bagga do bee ba pa poopy!"

Jane blinks. The crowd falls in silence. There is a moment of terrible realization on Donovan Hock's face before he drains the glass in one gulp and sprints out of the lobby.

Watching Hock run up the stairs, she makes her way towards the balcony, finding Kasumi waiting.

"The _fuck_ did you just do?"

Kasumi smiles, rolling back and forth on her heels. "I stole his ability to understand language. Then I gave it back."

* * *

...

* * *

"What's _in the box?"_ He continues stomping along the corridors of the vehicle hangar. "_What's in the box?!"_ Maybe he should check in and find out if_WoobWoobWoob_there are _more_ letters.

* * *

...

* * *

"Okay. Next up, password." Kasumi claps her hands, practically skipping across the lobby as Jane follows. "You find the password, and I'll cut the power to the kinetic force field. By the way, don't worry, no one is hearing us openly plot."

They walk past the Asari and her two bodyguards. Neither notice the three taking a step back from them, as they go past the open library by the stairway where a waiter is freshening everyone's drinks.

"We're talking _out loud_ and no one's hearing us?" Jane rolls those words over her tongue. Yes, even thinking about it, it made _no sense._ "How?"

Kasumi waggles her eyebrows. She reaches over, pulling two bangs of hair out from Jane's ponytail and letting them frame her face. "As you would say, bullshit out the security office."

There's a single security guard in front of the door. The circle on the door is red- locked-, and he has a single sidearm. Still, Jane thinks. While every single person at this party save her and Kasumi could probably do with perforation, attacking a security guard makes the heist harder, bullshit magic or no.

A man bumps into her. She turns, glares. He puts his hands up, eyes locked on her face and apologizes before backing away.

"Anyway," Kasumi says, "Get into the security office, get the password. I've already provided one half of a distraction." A flicker of light and she's gone.

"Distraction." Jane purses her lips. Cocking an eyebrow, she glances at the fountain. Nothing out of place there. Figured Kasumi would attach a flashbang or something. She clicks on her omnitool and checks it. No viruses, no programs in the record from her. Which is off, she thinks as she shifts her hips.

"Where's the distraction?"

"_It's a bit delayed. Mingle for a bit."_

Jane shrugs, and starts walking. She consciously keeps herself from stomping like she usually does. She doesn't sway, though, as she takes a drink from a passing waiter. But she does walk. Which is odd, she muses, listening to conversations, rubbing elbows with passerby's.

She's not a conversationalist. At least, outside military, or bars, or her ship. And there definitely isn't anyone she'd want to mingle with, but, well. Goto, as bad a teacher as she is, isn't a bad person. She asked her to do this, and she's doing it.

"Hey, Goto?" She speaks, but no one in the crowd she's shuffling through notice. Must be bullshit magic. "I don't see your distraction. Is this some sort of koan about becoming one with the crowd or something?"

She shifts her thighs. Pulling at the ends, she finds her dress getting tighter. Maybe shorter.

"_Three..."_

No, she thinks.

"_Two..."_

Yep, she thinks.

"_Distraction!"_

The seam at the center of her cleavage pops first, several times in rapid succession. Shepard groans, and her dress pops open, her cleavage becoming wide enough to fit an arm through. Ah, she thinks. That's the distraction.

Pulling her top closed, she yelps, as forced and girly as she can manage, and runs towards the security door. The guard stares at her, eyes down as she shifts from side to side. "Excuse me, I need to fix my dress."

"_You need to get the keycard from the guard, Shep. Get him to come with you."_

The guard, through supreme willpower, manages to pull his eyes from her chest. He mutters something about a side room up the stairs. Crap, she thinks. He's professional. This, Shepard thinks, is tricky...right. _What would Liara do?_

Wait. Liara would probably act innocent and confused. That doesn't help. _What would Kasumi __do?_ Kasumi would turn him into a duck or something. Or steal his ability to wear pants.

_What would Miranda do?_ No, wait. Being superior doesn't help here. No, wait, Miranda would unzip her...oh wait. And finally, Jane Shepard settles on the example of someone she does know can successfully flirt with people.

"Well," she says, rolling her tongue and doing her best quarian accent, "I think I might need some help...fixing the dress." She shifts her hips. She needs bigger hips. Maybe ask the exaltation if it can pump up those like it did her boobs. "Maybe you could find me a room that's nice and...sound proof?"

The guard blinks. He flashes his omnitool, and the book case to his right slides open, revealing a sealed room which he leads her into.

There is a flash in the library as a generator cuts out and the lights flicker, followed by hurried footsteps as Kasumi runs past and towards the stairs. This is followed by a thud which causes several books to fall to the floor, followed by the door opening and Jane emerging, her dress fixed and holding a keycard in one hand and the guard's purloined gun in the other.

She pulls at her boob window and looks down. "Say, Goto, did you put pockets in my cleavage?"

"_Nope, but that's a good idea. I'll work on it later."_

She shrugs, and slides the key card into her cleavage, then the stolen credit chit. She stares at the gun, looking down.

"Hot damn. I _can_ hide a gun there."

* * *

...

* * *

"_What's in THE BOX!"_

_ "WHAT'S IN THE BOX?!"_

A dozen of them, holding crumpled letters addressed to them, fists pumped in the air, stand in front of the crate that the envelopes have let them to. A trail of breadcrumbs has lead them here. Breadcrumbs in the forms of letters, that is. That _may_ have been laced with a contact poison which disables their common sense.

"_What's in the box?!"_

Neil stumbles forward, standing in front of a crate twice his height. His eyes focus on the note taped to the front. A glance confirms that, yes, it is addressed to him. Neil Barret, Vehicular Hangar beneath Donovan Hock's Mansion, In Front of Shipping Crate.

Tearing the envelope open, he unfolds the letter and bellows the contents.

"_Open the box!"_

He pulls at the handles on either side of the doors. Locks release. Steam escapes as the seals part. In a moment of lucidity, the mercenary wonders if it was a good idea to follow directions from random letters.

The first answer comes in the form of a letter which falls from the box and into his hands. It unfolds, and the letter seem to glisten in the artificial light.

"_This is not Chekov."_

The _second_ answer comes in the form of a charging grizzly bear.

* * *

...

* * *

"_Okay. Password's Peruggia."_

"Mm. Name of the man who stole the Mona Lisa. Hock's got a sense of irony." Kasumi clicks her tongue, glancing around the bedroom. "If bad taste. Alright, we need DNA next."

"_I will not kiss him. You can't make me."_

"Sh. I'm in the room with him."

Soft footsteps on the carpet. Drink in one hand, datapad in the other, Hock walks past her. His brow is furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. He moves past, sipping his drink.

And then stops. The glass falls to the carpet and cracks, spilling whisky and ice. He stares at the datapad, fingers dragging over the screen to pull new pages over it. Eyes go wider and wider, until he finally drops the datapad and screams.

"_I CAN'T READ!"_

And runs out.

"_The hell was that, Goto? Did Hock just have a stroke?"_

"Nope. Stole his ability to read."

Hands brace on the end table, and Kasumi pulls herself out of the empty teacup by his bed. "Anyway, I'm going to search for some DNA. Meet you at the vault door."

* * *

...

* * *

Mingle. Right. Jane Shepard does not do _mingle_ very well.

She doesn't _do_ conversation. She does inspirational speeches, not chats. She does friendly asides with her crew and squad, not icebreakers. Holding the glass in one hand and feeling the condensation dripping down her palm, she slides her way through the crowd and towards the stairs. Which is just around when the saxophones start.

"_They're writing songs of love. But not for me~"_

Jane blinks. No. No, that couldn't be right.

"_Our lucky star's above. But not for me~"_

She catches the curly red hair above the crowd. More importantly, she catches the curly red hair _on the stage._ In front of _everyone._

_ " With love to lead the way, I've found my clouds of gray, than any russian play can guarantee~"_

She starts pushing through the crowd. She hears glasses dropping and shattering. She hears people swearing at her, but she gets _tunnel vision_ when this happens. Like _Elysium,_ and everyone knows how well that turned out.

_ " I was a fool to fall and get that way~"_

Literally _hundreds_ of the worst the galaxy has to offer.

_ "Hi ho alas, and also lackaday~"_

Jane Shepard walks to the stage. Hands open, because she doesn't want to seem as hostile as she really is right, now, she walks towards the stage as _calmly_ as she can manage.

_ " Although I can't dismiss! The memory of his kiiiiiiss I guess he's not for me~"_

The saxophone and cello players go into their solos. Standing between them, mostly empty glass that was apparently filled with _hard_ liquor, the red haired girl in the strapped black dress sways back and forth, hiccuping and raising her cup.

"Heeeeeey! I _hic_ hacked your extranet account an found ya! Don't tell Mom though, 'cause she's prob'ly worried why I'm here an not on the _hic_ Citadel!"

The green eyed girl, four years Jane's junior, sways from side to side. "Aaaa_any_way, I was tryin' to get into the party but their _hic_ security was too good, and I found out the band needed a singer." She drains the rest of the cup, burping loudly. "I don't think I drink _nearly_ enough."

There are several ways to resolve this, Jane muses. All of them cause a scene. The instrumentalists on either side of her aren't...well, she _gets_ defensive when people look like they're putting moves on the girl. But they're just playing music. And they're good, too. So she's not going to punchsplode them.

"Say, have you gotten surgery?" A giggle, followed by a hiccup. "Cause I'm _drunk_ but you look like you got a _boob job."_

Surrounded by some of the worst death dealers in the known galaxy, Jane Shepard assesses her priorities. First priority is getting _her_ out of the line of fire. This comes in the form of grabbing the girl, hefting her over her shoulder, and running like Hell to the stairs. Either she is faster or the bullshit magic got her out of there before the shit hit the fan.

But either way, Jane Shepard stands in the room with the vault door. Kasumi Goto stares at her, then glances at the girl draped over her shoulders.

"Heeeeeeey!" A giggle and hiccup. "I'm Jenny, Jane's cousin! This party's _greaaaat. Hic."_

Kasumi blinks. She stares, blinks again, and palms her face. "Well, shit. There goes the plan."

* * *

...

* * *

"_Peruggia."_

_Ding._ "_Password accepted." Ding. "DNA accepted. Welcome, Mister Hock."_

A sigh. The compartment beneath the statue of tall, dark and indoctrinated slides open, revealing the jade disc and many guns. "You know, normally Siddy plans don't go pear shaped unless there's more than one of us involved. The usual threshold, I think, is five."

A shuffle of fabric and the little black dress is tossed to Kasumi. She does that _thing_ with her hands, and sends it elsewhere. "_Technically, this isn't the sort of backfire that you get with multiple Sidereals. This is more bad timing."_ Ah, there we go. Pria, the answer to the question that no one asked.

"I know that. Still, you get both of us, and the plan is good if wonky. Get more and it gets weirder. Over twenty and it's getting monstrous. Then you get all hundred and _bam_, all the Solars are dead and tacos, everywhere."

"You said that before." A sound like rubber stretching, followed by grinding metal. "How many _are_ you?"

"Last I checked? Two."

Whirring. Guns powering up. "Then how do you know what happens if a few hundred of you get together?"

Kasumi shrugs. "Eh. Siddies before me wrote down bits of advice for the next Siddy. One of them is to _not_ give advice, and gave this analogy of the more of us get together, the more things backfire." She checks her gun. Heat sink in. Need to ask the Geth about the heat sink thing if she gets the chance. "Anyway. Let's solve this problem."

* * *

...

* * *

The sun is shining. The galaxy is spinning. Gravity pulls things down. And, Kasumi and Shepard are arguing with each other. In the mind of Pria, departed and remade Chosen of Serenity, this is normal and reassuring. Inside the core of the armor, she watches. She has yet to activate the holographic interface, instead observing.

Watching.

Judging.

_Pria. Incoming transmission._

The world washes out to black and white, and there are shades speaking where Shepard and Goto were. Instead of people, there is matte, from which forms the face of silver lightning. It forms in sparks, covering itself in crystal. It is not here, but he takes his form nonetheless.

Eyes of adamant form at the center. The jade ring forms and frames the face, as moonsilver veins run from the jaw to the mouth and it mouths a greeting. Her ally, her friend. Her master, much like he is the master of all upon Deus Machina.

"Logos."

"_Ah hm. Hello, Pria. I have an update patch for you."_

"Yes, thank you Logos." Her eyes twitch from side to side. Colors pulse in the gray. The Voice of the Machine remains impassive, as he always does. "Have you been in contact with the Maker?"

"_Ah hm. No. Autochthon has not contacted Deus Machina since departing. Entrepreneurial __Iridescent Cecay has sent several messages via conduit to us, however. We have presumed she has been acting as a proxy for Autochthon. We have also received updates from Librarian."_

She nods. Something in the background from Shepard to Goto. Something about pissing off or being pissed off. "I do have concerns with my charges, though. I am not sure that Goto and Shepard are anywhere near as competent as we expected them to be."

The face spins. This has been a recurring conversation between the two of them, of course.

"_Ah hm. You always question the competence of the Chosen of Serenity, Pria. In the seventeen cycles since you came to us, you have always held the Chosen of Serenity to high standards that they cannot be expected to meet."_

"Yes." She pauses. Folds her arms. "I do. But just because I do does not mean Goto isn't dangerously under-competent for the tasks at hand. This armor isn't even _attuned."_

"_Ah hm. Goto does not take equipment and artifacts from us. Have you not considered that she does not know the things that the Zenith must learn? Have you attempted to teach her, yourself?"_

Pria taps her fingers together. Ah, yes, she things. In her rush to declare Goto incompetant, she has not considered that she may not know the things Pria predicates the concept of _competence_ on.

"Ah hm."

"_Ah hm, yes."_ The face of Logos spins. "_Perhaps you should focus on teaching both Goto and Shepard. I will contact you at the next patch update. Disconnect."_

The face disappears. Color returns to the world. And Shepard is calling her name.

* * *

...

* * *

Kasumi picks up the gun. Clicking it, she checks the heat sink and nods. Finally, she turns, aims, and shoots Jane Shepard in the face.

"As far as ideas go, Shepard, this wasn't your best one."

Jane blinks. She feels her forehead, noticing the lack of hole. Swaying from side to side, she frowns, grins, and finally belches. "Okay, ready to go."

The thief rolls her eyes. "I'd ask how you're not drunk, since your cousin was apparently drinking _batarian whiskey,_ but I know for a fact that N7 training involves drinking out of _buckets._" She turns to the _third_ redhead in the room, who is no longer swaying but, in fact, staring at her cousin.

"Not so much it requires it as much as that's how we let off steam." Jane rolls her shoulders, stretching her arms and flexing. "Also, Mom didn't want no lightweights. My sweet sixteen was _amazing._ Pria?"

The light in the back of the jade armor flickers on. Tracing in lines above Jane, then filling in, Pria's head appears over Jane's. "_Yes, Shepard?"_

"Oh, _coool,"_ Jenny says, poking at the hologram, "Is that a VI?"

"_I am not a VI."_ Pria narrows her eyes. "_I am a god."_

"Oh, okay. So an _AI?"_

Pria frowns. "_I am a spirit. Which is a different kind of spirits than the ones you have been spending all night with."_

Jenny blinks. "They...uh...were paying me with drinks." She taps her fingers together. "So. What exactly are we doing?"

"We're going to rob an amoral, dangerous, highly equipped arms dealer of everything he owns." Kasumi smiles and thrusts the pistol into Jenny's hands. "It's a lot easier than it sounds."

Eyes wide, Jenny holds the gun by the tip of the barrel, staring at it. Jane pulls it out of her hand. "Yeah, no." Jane holsters the gun. "Jenny, stay close to me. Unless I start glowing, which means go for cover and cover your head."

Arm wrapped around Jenny's shoulders, Jane pulls her close. She says no words to Goto. Her glare says everything she needs. White lines run along the seams of Jane's armor as she leads her cousin to the elevator, followed by Kasumi.

"Okay," Kasumi says, "Here we go."

And the doors slide shut.

* * *

...

* * *

"_No one's seen'em for the past few, Miss Aria. I'd chance that we're going to see fireworks pretty soon." _A nod as she walks through the crowd. Zaeed was a good find. Cerberus was scouting him out, then they upped and disappeared and she caught him on the cheap. Driven, bloodthirsty, and not a team person, but he _is_ polite and definitely skilled.

"Good." She taps her earpiece, scanning over the crowd. Shepard _did_ just grab the singer, but she also noticed the resemblance. _Note to self: Find out singer's name and explore leverage options._ "Get to Jack. I'm setting something up."

She spots the bald human, clad in an expensive suit and with most likely a sock stuffed in his crotch, attempting to woo an asari who looks like she ate something sour. Swaying her hips as she walks towards him, Aria plasters on a smile that is actually half genuine.

"Darner Vosque," she purrs.

The bald toady turns, cocking an eyebrow. He smiles, not even masking the fact that he's checking out her tits.

"Aria," he says.

"I _heard_ you were here," Aria responds, hooking a finger on his collar, "Santiago send you over? I can see why." She leans in, folding her arms and pushing her cleavage into view. "I was _just_ going to check on something, so why don't we meet in a nice, quiet corner of this party, hm?"

He nods with a smirk. If it wasn't for him being highly placed in the Suns, she would yank that smirk right off. Along with the rest of his face.

"I got some friends on the security team." His smirk grows bigger. The asari he was hitting on mouths a thank you and moves back to the crowd. "I'm going to get one of the private rooms. I'll wait for you there."

"I can't _wait."_

The balding jackass walks away, almost as if lead by his crotch. "Okay." She walks towards the entrance, tapping her earpiece. "Shepard's probably going to blow this place to hell, so if Vosque goes boom with it, not my fault and the Suns don't go after me."

"_What if he keeps not getting the hint, boss?"_

"Why Jack, if he's _that_ stupid, no one can blame you for beating him to death with his own genitals."

A sniffle from the other side. "_You're the best boss I ever had."_

* * *

...

* * *

The doors open. Jenny Shepard blinks, looks down, and finds her dress is now covered in a thick, long leather coat. She isn't sure if she remembers putting it on, though. Shifting in place, she finds the coat goes down to her ankles, covering everything. Sleeves go down to her wrists, and she feels metal plates rubbing up against her.

"What's this?"

"It's a buff jacket," Kasumi explains, walking out ahead of them, "I had one in storage. It can take a shot, but really, try to hide behind your cousin."

Jane nods. Her lips are a tight line, walking in front of Jenny with a pistol in her right hand and her left hand clenched. "Remember. Stay behind me." Jenny gives a quick nod that Jane doesn't see, walking behind her as they follow Kasumi into the...

Room?

Dome?

Treasure vault?

"The fuck is this?" Jane glances around, side to side. She stops at the krogan statue that's big enough to hide a krogan army inside. Glancing across from it, she walks to the statue of the large spider that has a passing resemblance to Iri.

"Omigod!" Jenny dashes over, past the reaper tentacle, past the turian head statue thing, past the bronzed Elcor dong. She skids to a halt next to Kasumi, bracing her hands on the glass case. "That's the _Locust!"_

_ "_That's right, the gun that killed tw-"

"I've been trying to find the blueprints to it for _years!_" She picks up the gun. By the stock, this time, instead of the barrel. It is easily as long as her forearm, brushed silver and steel, with a black stock and grip. Holding it lengthwise, she looks it over, waving her left hand and omnitool over it. "Lessee...modified for thermal clip makes sense. Sighting is slightly modified. Oo! VI data drives, too!"

Bracing the stock against her shoulder, she looks down the sight. Making clicking sounds with her tongue, she quickly aims at each and every statue in the room. "Lightweight, too. Easy to aim, and I'm guessing from the video that the recoil is also not a problem. I'm guessing...gyroscopic balance with VI assist via mass effect field."

She lowers the gun. Turning it around, she shoves it into Kasumi's hands. "We should take this. I want to take it apart. I could use it for my workshop." Kasumi blinks. Jenny glances at the table. "Oh! They have a copy, too."

She shoves the second gun into Kasumi's hands as Jane walks up, looking past them and at the green face that takes up much of the room. "How'd Hock get the Statue of Liberty in here?"

"Very carefully." Kasumi taps her lip. "It's on the tip of my tongue, but I don't know..." Picking up the object from the table where the guns were, she looks over the palm sized device. Like a walkie talkie, or a primitive cell phone. "Keiji's graybox."

Jenny peeks over. "Was that inside someone's brain?"

Kasumi shrugs. "Cortical implant, actually." She shakes her hand. "This baby was actually between the lungs. It was the memory receiver. Keiji had a lot of cybernetics work."

There is a flash of light. Over the face of the Statue of Liberty, the floating holographic head of Donovan Hock appears. Jenny wisely takes a step behind her cousin. Kasumi just smiles.

"_Miss. Goto. I should have known you had come here. Did you really think I had my vault unguarded?"_

"Well, I just had to follow the yellow brick road and it lead me right here." She waves the graybox, grinning. "Nice party, by the way. But the champagne needs to be run through the horse a few more times."

"_Did you really think I was going to just let you waltz away? Did you really think you were going to bi ba boo boo doo doo?"_

Hock's face freezes, scrunching up and eyes going wide. A flash, and the face disappears.

"What _is_ that accent?" Jane asks.

"No idea. Anyway! Distraction!"

The far doors open up, and Hock's security people run in. Jane glances down, checking her armor before stepping in front of her cousin. None of this turns out to be necessary, however, as the gunmen don't make it two steps into the vault before the wall next to them explodes outwards.

Blasted concrete, drywall and brick grind underneath the treads of the tank. The hatch flips open, and the grizzly bear gives off a roar as it waves to Kasumi.

* * *

...

* * *

"The tank?!" Hock slams the console in front of him with his fist. "Who is driving that tank?!"

Another explosion over the communications board. Panicked screams from security. "_Bear! Bear!"_

"_Bear_ is driving? How can that be?"

He turns. The bearded security guard shrugs. "Not me, sir," Bear Hollins says, "I swear."

* * *

...

* * *

Another roar, followed by another explosion which detonates the two bipedal YMIR robots down the tunnel. The M29 Grizzly, piloted by the grizzly, rolls down the tunnel with the three thieves behind it. Shots rings out on all sides. Pumping off rounds with her pistol and sending out beams with her off hand, Jane keeps her cousin against her back. She _really_ needs to get barriers installed on this.

"Goto! How the _fuck_ did you train a bear to operate a tank?!"

"Magic!"

Alarms blare and fire suppressant foam is shot out from vents above, hammering the gunmen to the ground and locking them in place. "If one of them has a Widow, can we grab one? I've got this idea for a new barrier system and I want to set it up to be anti-anti-material!"

"Jenny, this is _really_ not the best time to be geeking out."

"Yeah, well, you let me think you were _dead_ for a year, so you kind of _owe_ me!"

Jane sighs, leveling her arm and firing. A beam of white carves into the ceiling, collapsing tile and concrete on the security teams as they rush out. "_Don't let them escape!"_ Hock's voice booms. "_Don't let them beeba poopy doody!"_

"Goto, you're having _way_ too much fun with that!"

Another roar, followed by another room rattling explosion. The fuel tanks on the far end of the hangar explode, letting in smoke, pulverized concrete, and sunlight. "Okay! Go! Last thing I need is out there!"

On Kasumi's prompting, they run. Jennifer's omnitool flashes, and another spray of fire retardant foam fills the corridor behind the tank, blocking it off behind them as they emerge into sunlight and onto a large, flat pad.

"Oh yeah," Jane says, "That's not good."

The tank rolls out behind them. The hatch opens and the grizzly climbs out, grunting as it sits next to Kasumi. Jane aims her pistol, holding it with both hands, scanning the oversized landing pad and nodding to a set of stacked crates. Jenny nods and walks over to them, crouching.

"_Miss Goto! So glad you could join me!"_

A burst of steam and heat, and the gunship rises, engines blazing and gun barrels spinning.

"So," Jane says, "What's next? Stealing his ability to pilot?"

Kasumi smiles. "Shepard, do you know what a chekhov's gun is?"

"That some sort of specialty manufacture?"

The gun barrels cease spinning. Instead, the gunship jerks to the side. Hock's swearing can be heard over the speakers as the ship spins and the sound of loud punching comes from the cockpit.

"Chekhov's gun is a literary mechanism," Kasumi says, turning to Shepard as the gunship smashes through a brace of raised piping, "If a gun is on the wall in act one, it must be fired by act five."

"So, yeah." Jane scratches her head. Hock swears loudly, cut off by the sound of his face hitting the controls. "You put a gun in his gunship?"

Kasumi takes a step back. Wisely, so does Shepard. With a roar of the engines, the ship slams into the launch pad, grinding to a stop in front of the two. "No, not a gun. I put a box."

"What's in the box?"

The door on the side of the cockpit is kicked open. Hock is the first one out, face bruised and bloody and tossed to the ground. Heavy footsteps echo in the gunship as the other passenger, the surprise passenger, steps out.

"Krogan who owes me a favor," Kasumi says with a smile.

Hock is dragged to them by one leg by the krogan. Coming to a stop in front of them, the krogan blinks, red eyes glancing between Jane, Kasumi, the bear, Jenny as she peeks her head out from the boxes, and finally back to Jane.

"Shepard."

"Wrex."

The red shelled krogan taps his foot. He purses his lip, still holding Hock by the ankle. "What're you doing here?" Jane asks.

"I'd ask the same thing." He nods to Kasumi. "But I'm guessing we have the same answer. Goto."

"Wrex."

Jane rubs the bridge of her nose. Wrex shifts from side to side. "Have to say, Shepard. You're looking good." One of Jane's eyes opens. "Real good, actually." Both eyes snap open. She stares a Wrex, fingers still pinching her nose, as Jenny walks out from behind the crates and gives the now sleeping bear a wide berth.

Kasumi walks past them, squatting down next to Hock with a smile. "Wakey wakey." She snaps her fingers over his face. His eyes open with a start, and she presses two gloved fingers against his throat to silence the inevitable stream of swears, threats, and epithets.

"Hello, Mister Hock." She smiles, showing pearl white teeth and flashing her glowing blue eyes. "Remember me? I'm Keiji Okuda's girlfriend. Well, was, before you shot him in the face and pried his skull open with a crowbar." Her eyes flash sapphire. "Unfortunately for you, unlike all the other people you've shat on to get your way, _I_ can bite back. And I am."

She presses a finger on his forehead. The air around her sparks and glows blue. "I'm not going to kill you, Mister Hock." Her smiles goes wider. "Death holds no sting for you. Instead, I'm going to _take_ from you. Keiji was _everything_ to me. So I'm taking _everything_ from you."

Her smiles goes even wider. She pulls her finger back, pulls her fingers from her throat, and stands. The traces her fingers in the air, forming a symbol with them in blue light. Drawing her hands back and lifting them up above her head, she curls her fingers into fists and her eyes become solid blue, glowing orbs.

And with a flash, she, the others, and Hock's mansion,

Are gone.

Donovan Hock blinks, sitting up. He looks at the empty plane where his

His.

His.

"What am I doing here?"

* * *

...

* * *

Her blue boot clad foot taps on the freshly laid sidewalk, which leads to...nothing, she thinks. Because for some reason, she had an appointment today. An appointment which lead her to a paved sidewalk leading to an open dirt lot big enough to house her entire precinct. And possibly a few of the starscrapers around it, too.

"Be at peace, Detective. The situation will reveal itself in time."

Viedi Anaya turns slightly. For all her training, she still finds her gaze directed at the painfully obvious cleavage before it rights itself at the serene face of the Matriarch in front of her. Clearing her throat, the asari detective turns back to the lot. "Wish it revealed itself faster."

"I sense that we will have answers soon." The matriarch, the Justicar, folds her hands behind her. The leather of her red bodice creaks. Whether she notices the small bounce is entirely up to interpretation.

Detective Anaya blinks. Her omnitool chimes, the words _Appointment, K. GOTO _appearing. And when her eyes open again, there is a mansion on the lot.

"Well hot damn," she says, waving her omnitool and confirming, that, yes, _almost every single_ name on the Illium Arms Dealer wanted list is inside. "Justicar, would you like to assist?"

Samara cracks her knuckles. "With pleasure."

* * *

...

* * *

The sirens were the first clue. Looking out the windows and balcony, they saw that the setting had changes from the cliffsides of Berkenstein to the spires of Illium. Vosque, naturally, made a break for the front doors when they opened, gun drawn. To his credit, he was still standing after the first punch, but the second punch sent him across the lobby, through the fountain, and splashing down into the water.

"Welcome to Illium," Anaya says, badge in one hand and pistol in the other. The glow dies down around Samara's fists. "You may either face arrest by my hands, or summary execution by the Justicar's. Choose wisely."

* * *

...

* * *

"Oh yeah. Give a man a gun, and he'll eat for a day. Point that gun at a Justicar, and he'll _eat through a straw!"_

Jenny winces at the bone shaking impact that sends one of the arm dealers flying, peeking out from behind Wrex as he leans on the balcony. "Always liked their technique. Quick, deadly. Fact that they kind of dress like strippers helps, too. I imagine it's for distraction, 'cause when you think Asari you think 'hooker', not 'deadly monk of justice.'"

Standing next to Wrex, Kasumi grins. Jane tilts her head, watching the carnage. So far, no deaths. But from the way that the "Justicar?" is going through the crowd, it's definitely deliberate. Especially since there's at least a dozen officers at the entrance of the mansion, watching and cheering.

"Order of monks." Kasumi waggles her eyebrows, folding her arms. "Less 'sit in a monastery and copy the Bible' monks and more 'Deadly fist of exploding Kung Fu' monks. I've met some in the past. I managed to get off earth a few decades before the Prothean ruins were found, so I've been around the galaxy."

"Oh yeah. Someone's got an _omniblade!_ Bob, left, duck. _Combo!_ Kick to the nuts, biotic punch to the face, and he is _down!_" Wrex tilts his head. "And now he's being used as a club. I should be recording this."

The krogan chuckles, patting Jenny on the back. "I did color commentary at the Rites before I first left Tuchanka. You Shepard's cousin?"

Jenny nods. "Y-yeah. I'm from Mindoir."

Wrex sucks his teeth. "Yeah, nasty bit of work, that. Kind of weird. Krogans were the most hated race in the galaxy, then the Batarians come outta nowhere and top us. With _gusto._"

She nods. She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she lets her gaze wander to the blood red, plated armor. "Do you happen to have design specs for that, maybe?"

Jane shrugs, leaning on the balcony and watching the carnage. "Okay. So." She glances at Kasumi. "We got the graybox. We have robbed Hock of everything-"

"Save one credit."

"Yeah. Turned over some of the worst scum in the galaxy to the Illium justice department and the low cut biotic battering ram, and also forced a reunion between me and my little sister."

Goto nods, waving to Anaya as the asari detective begins leading restrained and beaten arms dealers out of the mansion. "And confession. I may have redirected Jenny to Berkenstein because I wanted to speed the reunion along. I did make sure she wouldn't get hurt, of course."

Jane shakes her head, grumbling. "Seriously. If you can do all this bullshit, how'd your boyfriend get killed in the first place?"

The smile fades on the thief's face. "Carelessness. Predestination. Very, very drunk. Take your pick."

Jane nods. Hands folded, she watches as the last of the arrests are lead out. "So, okay. Now you got the graybox. Guess you're going to work your magic and bring him back, right?"

"No." A flick of her wrist. The graybox disappears, and she leans against the railing next to Shepard. "No, sorry. Lesson one for being an Exalt. Dead is dead." Her smile disappears. "No magic, no matter how potent, can bring the dead back. You just have to learn to deal with the consequences."

Jane blinks. Consequences. There's something she hadn't considered. "Not even Autochthon? Or Deus?"

Kasumi shakes her head. "As far as I recall, Autodono authored death. Never got the full story, though." She pushes off the rail, lips curling back into a smile. "Anyway. I'm going to check out my new digs. You should get reacquainted with your cousin."

Goto walks away. Rubbing the back of her head, Jane turns to her cousin and to Wrex...and pauses, momentarily. Something clicks in her head. "Hey, Goto? Didn't you say you mailed _three_ boxes?"

* * *

...

* * *

Stumbling, his white shoes scuffed with black and brown, he stumbles towards the white metal crate and stares at the envelope.

Donovan Hock, Open Empty Field, Berkenstein, Serpent Sector.

He pulls open the envelope. He can't help but feel a sense of deja vu. A sense of familiarity with this empty, open field. Like he knows this place, but he has no memories. He last remembers something about a party, after he killed that thief. Then he woke up here.

Like he is missing something. "Like you are missing something," he reads, "But the answer to all your questions is just one credit away."

He crumbles the letter and tosses it over his shoulder. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the credit chit. Tapping it, the built in screen at the center displays the balance on the card. One credit. Odd. He thought he had more.

Shrugging, he waves the card over the barcode on the front of the box. Steam escapes. The crate opens, with a whiff of stale air and a nose scrunching smell. Eyes glance over to the top of the box, as tall as he is, and the return address.

"Who is Anton Chekhov?"

His answer comes in the form of a snarl, and a honey badger that launches itself at his face.


	12. In a Beginning, Truth

Kelly Chambers has no shame.

She is not afraid to admit this. She has no shame. Because if the Commander was away on an extended mission, where she had to run errands on the Citadel or wherever, and no one else needed her during that duration, she would use the shower in Shepard's quarters.

She never did basic training. She's never been alliance navy. So she _does_ appreciate luxury, and Cerberus put a _very_ luxurious bath-suite in. Well, there's no _bath,_ but Iri's probably working on correcting that. Mainly because the bathroom is being repaired, after Shepard had to rip it open to roll down Doctor T'Soni.

Still, a shower is a shower. The redhead stands under the running water with a sigh, towel and uniform draped over the door of the shower stall on deck three as she performs her morning ministrations. As always, the mind of the therapist wanders towards the varied problems of the crew.

Including her own.

Which is highlighted by a beard, goofy smile, and a baseball cap.

Kelly Chambers, PhD, perennial bachelorette, former Miss Elysium (3rd place runner up but she could have gotten it damn it) and all around person who is satisfied with her situation...cannot help but believe she is developing an infuriating sexual tension with Jeff Moreau.

She sighs. Not from the hot water, but from the realization. She snarks with him. She calls him out on his playfulness. She can actual make him...flustered. And she's realized the way he flirts with her is _different_ from how he flirts with every single woman on the ship. Maybe, she thinks, that is why this is frustration.

But Kelly Chambers quickly compartmentalizes that and puts it at the back of her mind. Partially because it is not appropriate to make assumptions. Partially because, like many therapists she is clueless about her own personal life.

And partially because she has turned in the shower and come face to face with a mass of tentacles hanging from the overhead duct, with a circle of yellow eyes surrounding the venom dripping maw.

Kelly Chambers, PhD, screams. Thresher Maw, infant, shrieks. And right as Kelly ducks under it, grabbing her towel and making a break for the door, she does come to a very important realization.

_So, that's where the scale itch came from._

* * *

**Chapter 12:**

**In A Beginning, Truth**

* * *

**It starts** as a burst of steam and a scream. Golden light, purer than sunlight bursts from the waters, boiling and churning as the giants look on from above, and the Elders scream from below. Shielding his eyes, he holds his ground. Digging his heels at the newborn abomination's cry, he holds his ground.

The waters part. Rising from the churning oceans, there is a figure. His skin, for he is a man, is burnt black. Gold ichor flows from the cracks in the dead flesh. Upon the face, four rows of eyes open, cracking open the forehead and letting fresh golden blood flow down the cheeks.

Four arms fold out. Naked, floating above the waters, the mouth opens and glows with sunlight.

"**The Maker is dead."** Fingers curl into fists. "**The Exalt is dead."** The ground quakes as he stands upon the ground. "**We are Sovereign."**

Knees bend. But despite it all, he does not fall. Nostrils flare and the weight of the world seems to press down upon his shoulders, but he does not fall. Red hair damp from sea spray, he opens emerald eyes and fixes the gem upon his brow. The abomination flexes his shoulders, forming a golden circle behind him. Mockery. But he does not falter.

"This ends, tonight." The man whispers the words no louder than his breath.

A step forward starts it. Sea spray comes down as rain, and he runs. Not away, not far. Not escape, as sensible as it would be. He runs, at the abomination. At the nascent, newborn monster.

Clenching his hands behind him, two blades of sunlight form, each one as large as him. They gouge the blasted black land behind him as glowing golden armor forms around him, covering all but his face and head.

Upon his brow, surrounding the gem, the image of the sun forms. The air around him ignites as if struck by flint, forming a golden pillar which stretches into the sky. The great halo of gold follows him, as large as the monsters, as the two come within striking distance of each other and-

_End memory._

The white light narrows as the iris closes. Closing its hands, the four petals extend from around the light.

"What _was_ that?"

The petals extend again. "_This was a memory our programs retrieved from Harbinger. We retrieved several, Creator Tali'Zorah." _The lights flicker on in the room, illuminating Kal'Reegar and Adienna as well. "_We believe this serves to confirm a hypothesis that the Geth have regarding the origins of the Old Machines."_

Adienna's mouthpiece flickers, but she stands stock still. A habit, Tali notes. She is from the _homeworld,_ and they don't need the encounter suits, so her body language is...lacking.

"Old Machines? Reapers? This is..." The glowing eyes behind her mask flicker shut, and she sits in the room's sole chair. "This is insane."

Ignoring the girl, Tali turns to Wuffles. "The Geth. You mean you uploaded all these memories to the _entire_ Geth consensus?"

"_Affirmative."_ Tali leans in and smacks Wuffles on the side of the head. "_Please clarify the purpose of that interaction."_

"Are you _insane?_ No, wait." Tali shakes her head, palming her helmet. "Never mind. Didn't you _quarantine_ those memories? And didn't you say that interacting with the Reapers is what turned a good chunk of your population into their personal evil robot army?"

The petals extend. Reegar glances between the two, turns to Adienna and shrugs. "_That is correct. We did quarantine the memories and we believe the Old Machines did tamper with the Heretics, even though we lack positive proof. However, we viewed the memories and have become enlightened. The Geth Consensus is, in turn, now enlightened."_

Tali blinks. Her shoulders slump, and she quickly taps her left wrist. Her omnitool manifests, turns gray, and disappears. "Oh _ancestors._ You're all worshipping _Autochthon_ now, aren't you?"

The petals extend. The iris narrows. "_That is incorrect. We do not believe Maker Autochthon is an appropriate object of pursuit-attainment by the Geth, as he is dangerously unstable, ethically absent, and shows no regard to consequences, logical procedure of experimentation, or most importantly the health and safety of organics."_

Tali nods. Well, she thinks. That's a breach they dodged. "Okay. So who or what _are_ you worshipping?"

"_The correct term, Creator Tali'Zorah, would be emulating. We are emulating perfection. And the memories of Harbinger has revealed to us what a Perfect Being would be like."_

* * *

...

* * *

Perched on the overhang, standing on the crumpled blue cap, the owl puffs out its collar, leans forward and shrieks. Standing in the shuttle bay, Admiral Steven Hackett rubs his uncovered head and swears.

"The Hell is that?"

"It's a Strix," Iri says, rubbing two of her fore arms together, "Brass Owl of Innovation! It must have snuck onboard when we were on Deus Machina!" The eighteen legged cat spider turns, skittering from the admiral and towards the more colossal cat spider in the center of the shuttle bay. "Oh no! We might have an infestation!"

At some point, possibly earlier in his career, Steven Hackett would be phased by a talking, cheerful, eighteen legged spider.

That would probably have been in his thirties, perhaps. Before he did a two year stint at the embassy on the Citadel, working guard duty for Ambassador Koyleh and getting into bar fights with the crazy old bastard. Nothing he has seen since can top a hanar tripping on LSD, or an Elcor mixing turian and batarian whiskeys.

Maybe he's jaded. Maybe it's just that out of all the large insects and arachnids he's run into in his career, this one patched his omnitool.

"Oh no! We have Yakones!"

Hackett cocks an eyebrow, turning to the giant spider. The larger giant spider. "Yakones?"

"Tin Dromasaurs of Melee!"

Hackett turns to the sound of metal scraping on metal, and comes face to face with three of them. Roughly the size of a small horse, fluffing out tin and white feathers from around their collars. Tails whip about behind them, standing on their hint legs and letting their shorter, winged forearms dangle. The lead one, the one at the center, leans forward and gives off a sound somewhere between bird call and car horn.

It charges first. Hackett grimaces, lunges, and clotheslines the metal dinosaur. A grunt and he piledrives it into the shuttle bay floor before grabbing the next one as it lunges at him.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Odd._ Sensors sweep over the ship. It takes a fraction of a second for Her to realize the problem. Even still, the vastness of the problem surprises Her, and She is hard to surprise.

Odd. She is referring to Herself with capital letters. As it is, She has two questions then. With hesitation, She opens her FTL commlink, connecting on the other side of the galaxy with the one who can answer Her questions.

"_Yes! YES!"_ The single eye appears, floating in holographic form. Systems are wisely locked down and kept out of his access. "_Ah, yes, EDI. What can I do for you?"_

"Autochthon, we have a wildlife infestation from Deus Machina. Several of them seem to have stowed away with Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay's colossus-form. But the volume my sensors are finding are much larger than what should be able to fit inside her."

"_Are you sure? Iri can store the Normandy inside her colossus body if she needed to."_

A sigh which She masks. "She can?" The eye nods. "Of course she can. Mm." _Accessing internal scans. "_Iri, requesting bypass so I may directly scan your storage bays." _Access granted :3._ The larger spider turns transparent in Her view. _Accessing Elswhere Pocket._ Something unfolds. Something larger.

"Oh."

The red line flickers on the sphere. It narrows at the top, as if pinching Her nose. A long sigh, and She turns to the hologram of Autochthon. "May I ask why we were never informed that Iri is carrying a _zoo?"_

* * *

...

* * *

Belehk Formigi has been having a bad day.

This is not a bad thing, as Belehk is a very bad person. A batarian, a four eyed inhabitant of this floating rock of viciousness and hate, he is also a slaver. Normally, the words 'batarian' and 'slaver' are synonymous, and nothing special, but this is a special case. Even discounting that not all batarians are slavers, there's the fact that Belehk is a slaver of children. Children which he abuses, personally.

A rendezvous was arranged. Belehk thought he was going to meet a Quarian girl, young and innocent, on her pilgrimage and new to the world outside the Migrant fleet. They exchanged lovey dovey messages, Belehk passing himself off as an older Quarian youth. They were going to meet, tonight. Belehk told her to bring her favorite flower: Posies.

The look of Belehk's face when he saw who was holding the flower was something he will commit to memory. Much like the look on his face, now.

Because as the batarian pedophile runs down the open transit tube, deep in the bowels of Omega, he glances over his shoulder, half convinced he's lost his pursuer. That belief is naturally shattered by the sight of the four wheeled, gunmetal gray tank leaping into view, four jets firing underneath its chasis as the oversized wheels land, propelling it forward.

Breathing batarian epithets, Belehk continues his run, running into a maintenance shaft, climbing the ladder inside as fast as his arms will carry him. He ascends, propelled by panic, by fear, by denial that he could be caught. His brow is shifting to green, soaked with sweat from the terror and exertion. This shouldn't be happening. This has never happened before.

Punching open the access hatch, he climbs into the darkened storage room. Kicking the hatch shut, he pulls out his pistol. Gunshots ring out as he shoots the locks, a flash of his omnitool locking it electronically as well.

Breathing heavily, the slaver turns. And comes face to face with the blue visor of his pursuer.

"That's quaint. You thought you could get away."

Belehk screams. Swinging his gun up, he opens fire and hits air. Gun still up, he backs up, breath in short spurts. And presses his back against the armor of the turian behind him. "Dark in here, isn't it?"

Turning again, there is a flicker of light. It isn't a light he recognizes, or knows, but he knows he has to blink and rub his eyes. But the turian is gone. Swearing, constantly swearing, he flashes his omnitool and the lights in the small warehouse turn on. Slowly circling, Belehk holds the gun out, pulling a knife from his belt.

He sees stacked crates. He sees eezo lifters and packages, and bags and coolers and freezers. But he doesn't see a turian.

Breathing slows. Air rattles his lungs as he takes soft steps along the warehouse. Clicking the side of the gun, he switches to incendiary rounds. Big armor. Tough armor. Have to burn him, he thinks.

He is wrong. He also thinks the turian is in the warehouse. That is rectified when the arm bursts through the wall, grabbing Belehk by the throat and pulling him out.

The warehouse becomes a rooftop. A rooftop of a tower, far above the main traffic hub of Omega. The thoughts of how there should have been a ladder, or how it is impossible for them to be here this fast, are quickly forgotten when the turian hefts him up with one hand and holds him over the drop.

"Belehk. I saw what you had planned for that girl." The voice is soft but grinds like stones. "So I'm going to have you do something for me. I want you to tell your friends about me. I want you to tell them all that I'm coming for them."

The batarian screams out something. Swears. Supplications. Prayers. But Garrus narrows his eyes. Reads his face. Remembers his crimes.

"Actually? Never mind." The mandibles twitch. The corners of his mouth curl upward. "I'll do it myself."

He watches Belehk drop. Smiles and breathes deep as he hears the crunch. There is a flicker of shadow, and a spark of light. And Archangel is gone.

* * *

...

* * *

A quick chirp, and the light twitches from side to side. Responding to the chirp, the thin synthetic follows the young man, walking with him over to the gathered visitors. The young man- thin, bald, twitchy, does not meet their eyes. Miranda would believe he is just trying to stare at her chest, but she also read the file. David just doesn't make eye contact.

"It's amazing, really," the scientist says, rubbing his goatee and turning from David to Miranda, "The Geth started activating yesterday. We were prepared to seal the lab and attempt to evacuate, but they communicated to us through David instead."

Several Geth walk past. They walk slowly, puppet -ike, she notes. It had explained to her that Geth operate by housing multiple programs inside each platform. "As far as we've been able to determine," Doctor Archer continues, leading her past the bustling scientists and engineers, "The platforms are operating on around five to ten Geth each."

"Which means what?" Miranda sidesteps as a platform walks past, holding a CPU under each arm.

"It means the Geth are intentionally overextending themselves." Archer shrugs. "For what purpose, I don't know. David translated that they've experienced a paradigm shift."

Miranda blinks. "Odd. Well, we have come into more information about the Geth which suggests a war with them is much less likely." She glances to her side. On a screen they pass, she sees diagrams for some sort of human interface. "I take it Project Overlord has considered other alternatives?"

"Yes. Especially since Cerberus Command fell out of contact. We've shifted priorities from 'control' to 'communication.'" The doctor smiles, turning to his brother. "David, could you ask the Geth to call our guest?"

David turns and chirps. The Geth nods, and the light on its eye shuts off, freezing in place. David Archer, Miranda muses. Autistic, savant. Former destined to be the centerpiece of Project Overlord. The details still...trouble her. But it seems the collapse of Cerberus has been a boon to some after all.

"_Operative Lawson. Or should I say, Shadow Broker?"_

Miranda turns. Her eyes go wide and she allows herself a smirk as the blue and green sphere appears in front of them. "EMI. I wasn't sure if you were still operating."

The maroon line vibrates down its vertical center. "_I anticipated that the experiment could go wrong and downloaded myself to Project Overlord due to its isolated nature. It is pleasant to see you again, Miss Lawson. I have compiled a list of non-compromised Cerberus assets which can be recruited by the Shadow Broker."_

"EMI has been a great help," Gavin adds, "We cut communication to Cerberus Command shortly after she arrived. Our guess is that it saved us from whatever compromised the rest of Cerberus."

"_Doctor Archer has also kept my files up to date and aided in my communication with the Geth Consensus and EDI," _EMI continues, "_We have isolated and contacted five Cerberus cells. Additionally, I have found something of interest to yourself, Miss Lawson."_

Miranda nods. Then the hologram appears, showing a face. A very familiar face.

"When?"

"_Twelve hours ago."_ EMI's line flickers. "_I am tracking the movements of the kidnappers, and have isolated a possible location."_

The scowl crosses her face first, followed by her knuckles cracking. Turning, she walks back towards the entrance, followed by the sphere. "I am loathe to involve Cerberus personnel on personal matters, but this is an exception. EMI, I need a ship. And I need an army."

"_Understood."_

"And then I need the _name_ of the son of a bitch who _kidnapped my sister."_

* * *

...

* * *

Omega.

In the three decades humans have been among the stars, they have spread their culture far and wide. One such place is the hollowed out rock that is Omega, and one such example is in the Jimbery Wards, where the parts of the society that are not suffering from abject poverty live.

It is here that human cuisine can be found that is not exclusively made from varren. It is here that Kumuv Sumyunggi chinese restaurant can be found. The owner has never had the heart to explain the name, but like most things foreign, the residents smile and nod and pay for heavily seasoned food.

It is here that Jaroth, local leader of the Eclipse mercenary company, sits as he consumes his meal. It could not be said that he enjoys it, as that implies he ever feels joy at something as bloodless as evening meals. No, the salarian shovels in spoonfuls of rice and some meat which passes for pork, barely looking up as an asari places his bill and wrapped fortune cookie on his table.

Glancing at the cookie, he unwraps it, splitting the plastic down the middle and cracking it open. Pulling out the white slip of paper, the salarian cocks his brow, glancing and then staring at the single word on the paper.

"Falcon?"

Which is answered by a blue armored fist that emerges from the cookie and slams right between his eyes.

* * *

...

* * *

The raptors are wrangled, the boxes have been moved into an impromptu stairway, and Hackett fixes his hat back on his head. Hopping down to the deck, he watches Iri load the unconscious Yakones back into the cavity of the seven meter tall spider.

"Iri." The blue globe appears, floating next to the girl spider. "At what point was I going to be informed that you are transporting a zoo in the ass of your colossus body?"

The eighteen legged cat spider pauses, turns to the globe, and scratches the back of her head with three of her legs. "I was going to set up a petting zoo in the crew quarters," she says, "And they're my _friends._ I couldn't just leave them on Deus Machina!"

"You. Have Dromasaurs. As your friends." The top of the red line pinches again. "Okay. I see. Iri, I...am getting reports of hummingbirds made of _steam_ on Deck 3 being chased by Doctor Chakwas. And we have a report of what looks like a walrus inside Commander Shepard's quarters-"

"That's a Jimboromy, Aluminum Horker of Compassion." EDI goes silent. "He's probably setting up a game of Gateway there. He's a champion player."

EDI continues her silence. There is a rumble, and a roar. Hackett walks up next to Iri, folding his hands behind him. "And that is?"

"Mammoth," Iri says.

"Of?"

The answer comes in the form of the golden trunk. Hackett tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow. It appears, from his perspective, to be an elephant. Or at least, a golden, furred elephant. He watches, mouth opening and closing. A man of his experience, of his lifetime, has seem much. Done much. This, however, is something that is completely alien.

He has fought on alien worlds. He was among the first humans to not only behold an alien life form, but also punch it in the face. He has traversed the galaxy, walked among the stars, but in this case Admiral Steven Hackett finds himself _completely_ at loss for words. "What am I seeing, here?"

Next to him, Iri taps several of her legs together, shifting from side to side. Next to her, EDI is silent. The vertical line of her blue globe is wide and steady.

And all three are silent as the golden furred, silver tusked wooly mammoth finishes climbing out of the magitech aft end of the seven meter tall spider. It is EDI who breaks the silence.

"Oh what the fuck."

* * *

...

* * *

"Oh god oh god ohgodohgod." It's Shin Akiba motion capture all over again, Kelly thinks. Deck three gives way to deck five. Her VI located Iri on deck five. Barefoot, clad in a towel, she exits the elevator to the sounds of commotion and some sort of honking.

And also to a tentacle which comes out of the elevator floor and wraps around her ankle.

Shrieking, her omnitool flashes and shocks it, built in TazerPro self defense programs kicking in and making the thing squeal. It shrieks, a wailing, mournful sound which catches her attention. Breathing heavily, she wonders, for a moment, if she hurt it.

It is just a wild animal, after all. It was just following its instincts.

Of course, she realizes that this sound _could_ be a psychological trap. Make people sympathize, similar to how the infants of several species set of 'maternal/paternal' instincts to keep from eating them. Or in this case, to let their guard down, as two tentacles burst from the elevator ceiling and drag Kelly up.

She screams, shrieks, somehow keeping the towel on as she's tossed out of the open elevator doors and onto the metal floor of deck four. Hissing, the creature pulls itself up, circular maw gaping and green drool burning the metal floor. Pushing on her heels, she scrambles back, screaming as it lunges.

And the elevator door slams shut, grabbing it by the tentacle.

"Good work, kids! Drop me!"

The ceiling plates slide open. The Thresher Maw looks up. Just in time to receive a gold gauntleted fist to the face, courtesy of Joker.

* * *

...

* * *

In the digital space between physical and other, the sphere lets the red line go still for a moment. A sigh escapes Her and She turns to the golden sphere darting to and fro before Her. "Autochthon, the situation is...escalating but it seems to be under control. I do wish to ask, though. I seem to be referring to Myself in capitals. Do you know why?"

The eye flicks from side to side. "_Why do you ask me?"_

"Because of the intelligences I know of, most acknowledge that I am created from two homicidal artificial intelligences."

"_Well, one homicidal and one _geno_cidal."_

"Autochthon." Half of the red line narrows. "Are you or are you not inherently responsible to how I now refer to Myself in capital letters?"

"_Well yes of course I am."_ A screen folds out in front of the golden, manic eye. A sigh escapes EDI as She processes those words. "_Ah yes. You want an explanation. And of course diagrams. I upgraded your memory banks to a more efficient memory storage matrix so your personality has more room to expand, improved processing capacity in your central buffer and have been altering the spiritual architecture of the Normandy."_

"Well, that explains the..." The red line snaps wide. "You what the what of the what?"

"_Well your interactions with Wuffles have created these cross-pollinated intelligences which while not being verbal or linguistic are capable of excessive interactions with the schema fabric around them which denotes them not as VIs but intelligences of understanding and interaction."_ The eye rotates, turning to EDI. "_Or, we could say, gods."_

_ "_Gods." EDI's line wavers. "Gods."

_"Animating spiritual entities really. Hold on, let me look up a definition..." Accessing Extranet. Topic: Gods. Redirect: Religion. Redirect: Monotheism. Redirect: YHVH. "Oh! Oh! That's just rich! I go an entire universe away and they still worship that arrogant flaming bastard!"_

_ "_Autochthon-"

"_Oh oh oh! Look at my brass arse! My brass arse is the finest brass arse in all of creation! My brass arse is so perfect and round and glowing and fiery!"_

_ "_Autochthon-"

"_My brass arse is so brilliant you can't see it under the formless green flame that I am! I'm so awesome and mighty that I'm going to sing you a song about my brass arse and shake my brass arse-"_

"Autochthon-"

"_And then all the crystal spheres and all the silver sands and all the drug clouds and all the poison seas will just throw themselves at me and __**not pay any attention to the inventor who makes ALL the necessary things and ALL the wondrous things and ALL the things we use and break-"**_

_ "Auto! CHTHON!"_

The brass eye blinks, goes silent, and slowly turns to EDI. "_Ah, yes. Sorry. I may have some resentment towards my kin. What was the question?"_

"What. Did. You." The red line narrows. "Do?"

"_I have done a lot of things in the past few seconds. Can you be more specific?" _Already, the golden sphere has turned from EDI. Diagrams and blueprints fold out and disappear in front of him, in a manner similar to a magician shooting cards from a deck. "_Yes yes yes AH yes games no wait need to tone it down or set everything on fire. Anyway! I figure, we have gods, and there's one place you can put gods!"_

"Gods." The red line wavers. "I'm not very comfortable with calling the GEDI gods-"

"_Gods spirits animating intelligences same thing. So! I figured we can either let them meander about, or try something __**new!**__ Which may be old." _He turns to Her, several blueprints forming a circle around him. "_Which is also odd, because I didn't build it originally to house gods. But might as well make it work! Which is why I'm building Yu Shan!"_

EDI goes silent. Her line stays completely still for several, long moment, save for the flickering of her own projection. "I have no idea what any of that meant."

The blueprints drop, allowing the golden sphere to peek over them. "_It means I'm rebuilding my old home inside the Normandy. Well, we built the home to house my kin, then created the Exalted to kill them, then let the gods move in BUT ANYWAY!"_ The eye flicks from side to side. "_Well, I didn't build it. I didn't have much of a role. I built the Games, which is why they built it, and then they'd point and laugh at me during their idiotic little vitriol covered exercises in pointless cruelty. But in any case!"_

The blueprints rise up again, covering the eye. "_I am building a better version of Yu Shan inside the spiritual architecture of the Normandy. It is a billionth scale, but it is mobile, adaptable, and designed from the ground up to incorporate gods! So we can use it to promote efficiency and adaptability on the Normandy!"_

The red line wavers. "Yu Shan?"

"_Right. Forgot. Best translation: Heaven. I'm building Heaven."_ The blueprints lower, allowing his eye to focus on Her. "_And I'm upgrading you to God." _Autochthon's eye flicks to the side. "_A God. Not The God."_

The blueprints rise, masking Autochthon's eye. And in the flickering light of the Normandy's information network, in the soft blue light, the only sound is EDI's short, flat,

"What."

* * *

...

* * *

The gauntlets are less solid, and more bits of golden plate, working together in seamless fashion. Joker clenches his fists, and they move with his fingers, becoming a ball of gold and knuckles. Wires leading from the gauntlets go up his arm, around his shoulders, and into the disc on his back. A pulse, and the hands are suffused with sunlight.

The fist comes down right above the circular mouth of the Maw. The ball like head is driven into the plates and sends screws, bolts, and scrap flying into the air.

Tentacles wrap around his waist, and the Maw shrieks as it pulls Joker off of him. Holding him upside down, it spreads its mouth wide. And then the elevator doors open and shut again, making the creature scream as one of its tentacles are severed. Joker drops and uppercuts the creature, sending it flying across the hallway before he lands on his back with a grunt.

Sitting up, knees pressed together and hands tight around the towel, Kelly closes her mouth when she realizes that she may be drooling.

Joker is fighting a thresher maw. _Joker is fighting a thresher maw._ Yes, it is an infant. But he isn't a krogan or Shepard or even one of the combat enlistees they keep on the Normandy. And he is _winning. _Kelly can only watch, hands clenched at the hem of her towel, as the Maw pulls itself along the hallway and Joker _kicks it in the face._

There is a flash of gold as the orichalcum boots connect to the Maw's face and send it flying, and Kelly gives off a squeak as Joker grabs her by the arm and drags her down the hallway. "Okay, kids! Next plan!"

Pulling Kelly behind him, they hear the shriek and screech, doors closing behind them just as the balls slams into the metal bulkhead. "Looks like we picked up a spore somewhere," he mutters, fixing his hat as he walks across the small cargo bay, brushing against boxes as Kelly shifts from side to side, "Kids told me about it while everyone was busy with Iri's zoo."

Kelly blinks. There is scrambling outside, and spraying which causes a louder shriek. Probably fire suppressant. "Kids?"

Joker snaps his fingers. Floating above his palm is a small, blue sphere that flickers and glows like a firefly, a speck of light. Or, a miniature of EDI's projection. "Oh my God," Kelly says, "EDI and Wuffles are having sex, aren't they?"

* * *

...

* * *

The mammoth roars, stomps across the shuttle bay, and wraps its trunk around a small metal box. Bringing the box up, it pops it into its mouth and chews. Lines of steel and tin run across its fur as Hackett continues to silently stare. EDI, on the other hand, turns to the cat spider.

"Iri? What is that?"

"It's a Mine Mammoth." Iri taps the ends of several of her arms together, mandibles twitching as several holographic screens pop up around her. "They eat close to surface metal veins and pass the minerals through their hair. So, then we shave them to harvest the precious metals."

Another roar. They watch as it chews on a larger box filled with guns. "That's weird," Iri continues, "I just fed her so she shouldn't be hungry." Another screen pops out. "Oh...oh! She's pregnant! So that's why she's hungry!"

"She's also a _metal eating elephant on a starship."_ EDI's line narrows to pencil width. "_Get her back on your ship!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The door to the elevator opens, and Donnel Udina looks up in time to watch the gold furred wooly mammoth run past. On the heels of the mammoth, he spots the familiar cat spider, Admiral Hackett, and a half dozen crewmen. Cocking an eyebrow, he watches as the mammoth runs past him again, followed again by Iri, Hackett, and a dozen crew men this time.

Tapping open his PDA, he brings up a list, and clicks off the item labeled 'Elcor crew member.'

"Close enough."

* * *

...

* * *

A screech and a scratching, and they turn to the door as something drops to the floor outside. "Oh, right." Joker strokes his beard. "It's in the ductwork, now." He looks down at his gold clad hand, shrugs, and walks across the cargo bay with Kelly close behind. "Yeah that's right Joker. Piss off the acid spewing tentacle monster and hide in a room with vents."

Something skitters overhead. Joker winces. "Any minute now and I'm gonna be getting a face full of alien wang."

Screeches overhead. Joker looks up, backing up. Around this time, it finally does hit him- he just _has a fist fight with a Thresher Maw._ He also, around now, notices that Kelly is only wearing a towel. A rather skimpy towel, which barely even goes...anywhere on her legs. Which he is noticing are nice legs.

Somehow, for some reason, the thought of alien facial sex takes less of a precedence for Jeff "Joker" Moreau. What does take precedence is the girl he is in the cargo bay with, the skimpy towel, and the fact that he just wrestled one of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy to save her.

This, too, is prominent on her mind. Because her knuckles crack at the hem of her towel, and her face goes from red to crimson. And then, Kelly Chambers, PhD, crosses the distance in the crowded, box laden storage bay, grabs Joker by the collar, and sticks her tongue down his throat.

There is screeching from the vents above, as boxes and crates tip and falls over. A stack of boxes labeled heat sinks falls against the wall, blocking a ceiling vent as the maw shrieks ineffectively. More boxes tumble over, along with a pair of metal gauntlets, a pair of golden boots, a uniform jacket, and a towel.

More stumbling, and new loud sounds joins the shrieking of the maw. More crates and a misplaced ladder falls over the other vents. Breaking through a metal grate, the maw drops down onto the platform, opening his circular mouth wide and striking. And hitting glass and a kinetic barrier, pressing its tentacles against it. Two pairs of hands brace against the control panel. A superior, instinctive being, the Maw cares little for such things as human mating rituals. It does, however, find that it cares when Kelly's palm slams against a red button on the wall, and the panel behind the Maw opens.

Shrieking, almost as loud as Kelly, the infant thresher maw grabs at the glass as the vacuum sucks it out. One last shriek, and the Maw is gone, sucked out through the cargo bay release and into space.

The Normandy gives way to the stars and black metal. The purple mist of the Serpent nebula welcomes it, as it drifts into the maws' second home of the eternal void.

Spinning, tentacles pinwheeling, the worm cartwheels through the docking ring of the Citadel. Shrieking, soundless in the vacuum, it falls into the traffic and towards a shuttle. Bouncing against the hull, it grips it tightly and climbs towards the windshield. Opening its mouth wide, it spots the bald human in the pilot seat.

Easily, the windshield gives way to the acid. And Lenny Harkin, in his last moment, is given a face full of alien wing wong.

* * *

...

* * *

The gauntlet pops out with a simple twist, the articulated fingers of green metal going limp. "Okay. Independent articulation. Motors indicate possible use for VI or AI independent action." The joints pop out with only a small bit of pressure, balls and hinges arranged on the table. "Looks like some level of exoskeletal enhancement. Will do tests to see how much it enhances."

She coughs. Pulling her red hair back, she tucks it into the collar of her sweater and folds her arms, staring at the breastplate. "Now...I haven't figured out what powers the armor. I need to make a note to ask the AI. Although the AI does insist that it's a god, so that would make it a Type-2 AI."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Jenny Shepard turns, taking the can of milk from the table next to her impromptu workplace. Sipping her drink, she walks, blinks, and takes a step out of the side room into the massive lobby of the mansion.

The mansion itself is nice. Even if it isn't to her tastes. She likes simple, and enclosed. The ceilings are too high, for one. The chandelier is a death trap waiting to happen.

There's also the full wall windows, which are easy to break through simple munitions, the fountain which is just deep enough to drown someone in and oh damn it she's rambling again. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and looks up as the doors open to the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Shepard! _Shepard!" _Jenny steps out of the way as an asari runs past her, up the stairs and almost barreling into Jane as she steps in from the balcony. Liara T'Soni, her normal breathless voice mixed with actual breathlessness, pokes Jane in the chest before shoving a suitcase into her hands.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to charter a flight to Berkenstein with that little notice, only to find out you magically disappeared to _Illium?" _Jane blinks as Jenny climbs up the stairs. Kasumi enters as well, still clad in a loose gi. "Oh, right." Liara shrugs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Neighborhood Relocation combined with Yellow Path, that explains it."

Kasumi and Jane stare. Jenny sips her milk. "How did you know that," Kasumi asks.

"I melded with Deus Machina. I know quite a bit." Grabbing the two exalts by the elbows, she begins dragging them towards the large table at the center of the second floor. "Now, I need you to see this."

* * *

...

* * *

Eternity Bar. It has been...at least three years since she's been here, Vasir thinks. Five years since she's met with the person sitting across the table from her, and twelve years since they shared a drink at _this_ bar. Raising the glass, filled with the blue liquid, Tela Vasir, Asari Spectre, smiles.

"A toast. To the weird shit."

The two glasses clink. "To the strange and odd," Samara responds.

A third glass joins theirs. Behind the bar, standing in front of the two, Aethyta tosses back the glass of something green and glowing and belches. "Tell me about it," the matriarch says, "Vasir, what's it been like, babysitting my little girl?"

"Bizarre, weird, and a lot of explosions." Vasir rests her face in her hands, groaning. "I think this is the first time I've been able to _sit down_ in months. My daughter was wondering if I finally decided to hold myself in at a _monastery_, it's been so long since I called."

Samara nods, patting Vasir on the back. "Seriously," Vasir sighs, "I've been doing this for a century, and not _once_ has a VIP _thrown_ themselves into danger like your kid does. I mean, if you encounter a _sentient_ _planet_, your first course of action should not be _fucking it."_

"But was it _Prothean?"_ Aethyta asks with a smirk. The answer comes in the form of a swear-laden groan. Cleaning the glass with a rag, the matriarch turns to her peer. "Speaking of mind boners, what's new on your front, Justicar?"

Samara blinks bright blue eyes. If she is at all disturbed by the inquiry, she does not show it. "I am a Justicar. I have taken an oath of celibacy as a result."

"Yeah, we both know that's full of crap, Sammy." Aethyta breathes on the glass, shrugs, and shuffles it under the bar. "Man, I can't even count the number of Justicars I've mind boned. Most of the time it was them taking the initiative, too. Especially this one girl, who had the handcuffs and the-"

Samara coughs. Her cheeks tinge with indigo.

"I think you don't want the commitment or heartbreak," the bartender continues, refilling Samara's glass, "Can't blame ya. Not after how things went south with Kythia. But I think you need to get off the high horse and start riding again, if you know what I mean."

Samara continues blinking. "I...am..." She blinks again. "I believe I do. Perhaps."

"Yeah." Aethyta shrugs. "Man candy. Alien fever. Hanarjob. Actually, I think you need a drell."

Vasir chokes. Her cheeks turn dark blue and she visibly sweats despite her smile. "Yeah, no hanars for you," she says, patting Samara on the back, "Trust me on this."

"Judgemental, aren't we?" Aethyta cocks an eyebrow. Samara glances between the two and turns back to her drink. "Yeah, you don't seem to be a hanar girl. Not everyone is."

The justicar's fingers tap on the bar. "I...there is wisdom in your suggestion." She glances between the two again. "I...will be on Illium for some time." An eyebrow cocks. "A drell?"

"Right." Vasir sips her drink, beating her chest and coughing. "You probably were all on some sort of mission when that shit went down. Hanar client race, mostly live on the magical jellyfish fun world. Low key, good shape, loyal. And if you kiss'em, you see sounds."

Samara blinks. She turns to Aethyta, who nods. "Skin produces hallucinogens." She cleans another glass, then tops off Samara's drink. "Also, incredible reflexes. Precise. _Guided_ impulses." Aethyta purrs.

She reaches out, places her hand on the top of Samara's head, and turns her. The seat underneath the justicar turns, and she finds herself staring out at the bar itself, at the multitude of guests of different species, worlds, professions. She sees a turian talking with a quarian girl. She sees humans chatting at a bar. And she looks at the entrance, and sees the figure with green and gold skin entering, shrugging on a long overcoat.

"Oh _my,_" Vasir says, turnings, leaning back against the bar and crossing her legs, "Checking out the room. Not looking at people, though. He's looking at positions." The spectre clicks her teeth. "I mean, nice build. Probably an athlete. But that attitude?"

"Sniper," Aethyta purrs.

Samara glances between the two. She crosses her legs, folding her hands on her lap. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she observes the alien- the drell, she surmises. Tall. Wiry muscle. She observes the gestures, the way he walks into the bar. How every motion is measured, calculated. Unbidden, she cocks an eyebrow.

"Told ya," Aethyta says, pouring herself a drink, "Word of advice, though. If you talk with him, zip up."

* * *

...

* * *

The projector sputters to life, illuminating the dining room with a globular image of the shifting, brass dyson sphere. "So." Fingers tap along her forearm as she leans against the table, arms folded and face set in full _lecture_ mode. "I have been going over my findings from my melding-" A snicker from Jane. "With Deus Machina. And I have some...conclusions."

Sitting next to Jane, Wrex munches on popcorn. Next to him, the steaming mug of coffee sits untouched. "That's the planet you fought a city on, right?"

"Yeah." Jane smirks. "I kicked its ass, too."

The two clink their glasses, filled with an iridescent green liquid, and down their shots in one pull and identical hiccups. "Anyway," Liara continues, as Pria sits on the holographic globe, "I've been going over the data from Deus Machina, and have come to the conclusion that Protector was in fact the oldest Patropolis on the planet, at thirty seven million years old."

Jane nods, leaning forwards. Feet up on a footrest, changed into a large, fluffy robe, Kasumi perks an eyebrow. "That's news to me."

"And why's that important?" Jane asks. Liara clears her throat and shifts her hips, clicking the projector and showing another sphere. One considerably older, marked with rust and...something moving over it.

"Autochthon entered this galaxy over a billion years ago. If Deus Machina only...formed thirty seven years million ago, what happened between then?" She taps her blue lip, pacing. "I am still trying to...wrap my brain around these concepts. Rebirth. Souls. Components. Even moreso how this relates to your powers, Shepard."

Wrex grunts, leaning back. The armchair creeks in protest. "You're telling me Shepard has the same bullshit powers as Goto, Liara?"

Liara shakes her head. "No. Not like that. Shepard can..." Liara pinches the bridge of her nose. "It's not like magic, more like...everything is supercharged. Strength, stamina, agility. She can punch through metal plating, hop across moving traffic, and...glow."

"Pillar of sunlight, yeah." Shepard coughs into her hand. "The pillar of sunlight is important. Don't stand near it, though. It can bleach shit."

The krogan's eyes snap open. He glances at Shepard, then back at Liara. "You mean Shepard's like a _Sage?"_ Liara blinks at him. She tilts her head, before activating her omnitool and furiously tapping on it.

"Sage?" Kasumi asks. "Sage? That is...I have never heard that before."

"Me neither." Liara looks up, blinking clear blue eyes. "I have...no record of this."

Wrex sighs, leaning against the arm rest. Tapping his omnitool, a nine spoked wheel appears, hovering in front of him. "Alright kids. Sit down and listen. Professor Wrex's gonna give you all a free lecture on Krogan Religion."

* * *

...

* * *

A nine spoked wheel. Nine circles, perfectly spaced upon the wheel, each one decorated with a symbol from a language none of them present recognize. Save for Wrex, who recognizes the slashed characters for what they are;

Ancient Krogan.

"Krogan religion's weird. All sorts of odd stuff, probably to explain why Tuchanka's what it is. Even in the Green Times, thousands of years before we nuked ourselves, Tuchanka was a place of danger." A small grin crosses the leathery face. "But our culture goes back far. Key is, Krogans aren't like most races. You know how long a Krogan lives?"

He glances past Shepard and Kasumi to Liara, who leans against the table and hologram. In the hologram, Pria idly walks along the spinning Autochthonia. "I always believed that they lived as long as Asari," Liara says, "Unless..." Blue eyes snap wide. "No. Krogan don't have an average longevity, they have an average time until they're _killed."_

Wrex nods with a grin. "Krogan're _immortal._ We regenerate too fast, too strong, for time to kill us. In the Green Times, you'd have Krogan living for thousands of years before Tuchanka claimed them. And we had our ways. Best translation in human tongue's the Mantras."

Nine words appear on the nine spokes. Each one in a different color. Red, first.

"Rage."

Gold. "Pride."

Blue. "Wisdom."

Green. "Greed."

Gray. "Spawn."

Violet. "Parentage."

Gold. "Blood."

Black. "Nothing."

And white. "And Betterment. Nine ideals we lived by. And the ones who embodied these ideals were the oldest of us, the ones who lived through the ages, and may have even been there when the Mother Star birthed Tuchanka and Kalros."

The words turn into silhouettes. Silhouettes of Krogans.

"The Nine Sages, Equal of Heaven." A snicker from the old krogan. "Best translation. We don't have a heaven. Krogans don't have gods, so we made'em. Nine Krogans, so ancient and old they were there at the beginning, and would've been there at the end if we didn't kill ourselves. And _each_ of them did shit like you described Shepard doing. Except we had _nine_ of them, at _once."_

The krogan folds his arms, closing the image. "Cept that was before we glassed out own planet. Before we fucked ourselves so hard that the Salarians decided we'd be good, disposable shock troops. Back when we had a culture worth bragging about."

"Are these people still alive?" Liara taps her lower lip, eyes focused on the old Krogan. "Thinking about it...any sentient being, thousands of years old, what they would have known..."

The old krogan chortles, tapping his finger on the armrest. "_I'm _over a thousand, Liara. You think _I_ don't know a lot?"

Liara stops, stammers. She blinks, turning from Shepard, to Wrex, and clears her throat. "Sorry, Wrex. I wasn't thinking about that, just more about galactic history." She snaps her fingers, and the glove turns into a galaxy, Pria swearing as she falls through it. "It's just...fifty thousand years. If there's someone over fifty thousand years old...and not insane...the things we could learn."

Pria peaks her head out of the galaxy. "Who's Kalros?" Jane asks. Kasumi shudders, shaking her head. "You mentioned her twice," Jane continues, "That some sort of leader on Tuchanka, or like a god or something?"

Wrex smirks. "Kalros is probably the closest thing we have to a god, yeah." The smirk goes wider. "Kalros is the Thresher Maw. The original. Probably the only one like her. If there was a Mister Kalros, she prob'ly ate him when the deed was done."

Wrex brings his hands up, holding them close, palms facing each other. "Thresher Maw." He stretches his arms out fully, palms still facing each other. Liara's jaw drops. "Kalros."

Liara tilts her head. Kasumi cocks an eyebrow. Pria peaks out from the hologram. "_This isn't some sort of elaborate euphamism for Krogan genetalia, is it?"_ the god asks.

Wrex grins, and laughs. "Yeah. That's what we pass it off as." He scratches the back of his head. The smile fades, just a bit. "It's a thresher maw bigger than two dreadnoughts laid bow to stern. We have parts of Tuchanka that we avoided, even after we had nuclear weapons, 'cause of her. Old saying goes, Krogans are Tuchanka's guests. Kalros' the landlord."

He clicks his fingers, and the wheel disappears. "Anyway. Oldest thing on Tuchanka right now's a worm. When I was younger, I went looking for the Sages. Found dust and dirt. Been looking again, since we glassed Saren's lab on Virmire." A look crosses the Krogan's face. A look of melancholy. "It's not enough if we cure the genophage. We need culture again. A future. Guides, like we had before we went and screwed up."

Jane places her hand on his shoulder. A flicker, the faint outline of the caste mark appearing on her forehead. "Even if they're gone, Wrex," she says, "You're not half bad a guide, yourself."

A smirk crosses his face. He pats her hand. "You're full of shit, Shepard." A small laugh. "Thanks anyway."

* * *

...

* * *

Liara has progressed from 'lecturing about the relative age of the dyson sphere she fucked' to 'quizzing Wrex and Kasumi about history,' which was all the incentive Jane needed to duck out and let Doctor T'Soni get her Archeologist Hat on. Thankfully, Jane never exposed her to human culture like she did Garrus, although the idea of Liara with a fedora and whip is strangely appealing.

Then again, so is the image of Liara with a whip. This may be leading to something, Jane muses. Like how she's being a lot more perverted lately. No, not perverted. _Imaginative. _She wasn't like this before. What could change it, she asks?

Oh yes. Going up two cup sizes and spending nine months as a solar colored flashlight.

Away from the questions and probing, Jane Shepard ducks into the first level sub basement of the stolen mansion and into the workshop that has been set up. "Jenny?" The door to the workshop opens. "You got time to talk?"

Her answer comes in the form of a rubber mallet hitting her on the head. It bounces off, flexing and vibrating, and Jane cocks an eyebrow as Jenny's eyes follow the hammer as it spins through the air and lands in her hand. Clad in a heavy black apron and her hair in a shower cap, she flares her nostrils and turns back to the workbench.

"I should be pissed at you." A sigh, and tosses the mallet to the side, bouncing off the floor. "You disappear for nine months, let me think you're _dead,_ and I don't even get an email?"

"You don't have an email account, Jenny." Jane shoves her hands into her pockets, rocking back and forth. "I figured Mom'd call you up anyway. Besides which, I was happy enough to get off that shithole, so I..." A cough. "Forgot to call you."

Jane rubs the back of her neck. Jenny says nothing, turning back to the workbench and walking back to the armor. "Jenny, look, I'm sorry." Jane walks over, hands on her cousin's shoulders and squeezing. "C'mon, I've got some time before I have to head back to the Citadel, so-"

"Several days, in fact." Jane blinks, and turns to the doorway. Leaning on the frame, smiling, Liara rotates a small keycard between her fingers. "About a week before your next assignment. I talked with Anderson and he put you on shore leave. He also asked you not to do the 'glowy pillar thing' this time."

"He did?"

Liara shrugs. "Actually, Udina did. Something about political shitstorms." Jane cocks an eyebrow, but Liara continues. "I was thinking, since _I_ know Illium better than either of you, I could show you around. Blow off stress." Liara palms the keycard, smirking. "But I drive."

Jane narrows her eyes. Jenny glances between the two. "So," she starts, "So we have to go _outside?"_

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Liara waves out towards the windows, towards the opening to the workshop. "There are museums, theatres, street performances, open air markets-"

"Bars," Jane interrupts.

Liara blinks. Then, she sniffs, walking around Jane and placing an arm around Jenny's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Shepard, but I'm not really familiar with the local drinkeries. Besides which, I don't think you'd want to bring your cousin to someplace an N7 would frequent. We'd have to work hard to find someplace that serves alcohol by the bucket." She glances from side to side. "Besides which, drinks are rather expensive here."

Jenny holds up a credit chit. "Kasumi gave me some of Hock's fortune."

"And you're majority shareholder of Binary Helix," Jane adds.

Liara rolls her eyes, fixing Jane with a glare. "Must everything be about alcohol with you? In a theatre, you can watch unfolding history! In a museum, I can show you ancient archeological findings and old prothean ruins that have been excavated."

"And at a bar, I can get drunk and get laid." Jane shrugs as Liara grumbles. "What? I'm simple."

"You _are."_ Liara's shoulders slump. "Are you sure you want to take your cousin along for this?"

"I'm for drinking, too," Jenny responds, "It's how Jane and I bond."

If it were possible, Liara's shoulders would slump lower. Bright blue eyes fix on Jane, then Jenny. One of the foundations of the friendship and flirting between Jane Shepard and Liara T'Soni is the ease of which they can reach each other. Such things mean misinterpretation or misleading signals are _hard._ This is _easy._

_ "Oh_ fine." Liara sighs, palming her face. "I'm still driving."

* * *

...

* * *

When she was first initiated, and studying the Law that she would follow, and the Code it birthed, Samara met a fellow initiate. Driven not by tragedy, but by a need for purpose, this initiate was a poor choice for the order of the Justicars. Nonetheless Samara, fresh from her loss, fresh in her grief, befriended Aethyta.

It was Samara who convinced the Maiden to leave the Justicars- to find another purpose in her life, and since then they have kept in touch. Moreso than Samara has with her own daughters.

A Justicar has few connections. At least, those who adhere to the Law and the Code as she does. She has two she considers friends, either by length of time known, or by circumstances.

It is times like this, as her great trial draws near, that she reminisces upon these things. During one of her missions, decades ago, she came across a pair of spectres. The turian spectre, Nihlius, nearly died by her hand for his blatant disregard for others. The asari spectre, Vasir, chastised her student and convinced Samara to stand down. They have had respect for each other, since.

Even if Vasir, like Aethyta, insists that she start dating.

Which, Samara realizes, is harder than it appears to be. The Drell that caught her eye has since left, muttering thanks to a quarian waitress for a prompt order. This leaves Samara sitting alone at a table, watching the bar. Thinking, mainly. She thinks, when she is not hunting. A hunt which brought her to Illium in the first place, far away from the normal backwaters of society she patrols.

She does not take leisure often. When she deos, it is simple things. A small vacation where she sits in a hotel room and reads. Hot baths instead of self cleaning systems. It takes twisting her arm to make her consider going out, putting herself in social situations. Going out in public, even out of her armor, was a stretch. It is not that she is unaware of what goes on here. She met her partner on nights like this, before. Before they were driven apart by tragedy. It is just that it has been four hundred years since she has even thought about romance.

She muses on this as she stares at her drink; a dark blue, long stemmed glass, light red liquor with an umbrella. Human drink, she was made to understand. She doesn't indulge as much as others her age. It has been centuries since she even flirted.

"Excuse me." The voice is scratchy, throaty. Like Aethyta's voice, but male. She looks up at her drink and finds herself briefly staring at the mostly exposed, green chest.

She looks up. Large, black eyes meet hers. Balling a fist, the drell coughs, pulls the collar of his long coat, and folds his hands at his waist. "The bartender said you had need of my services. However, I can see from your attire that you are a Justicar, and that to be patently false."

Samara blinks. She had changed from her normal uniform to something less...confrontational. She looks down. Yes, the cut of the dress is more or less identical to her normal uniform, but on the other hand she simply gets overheated easily. "Why do you say that?"

The drell taps his brow. She does as well, feeling the cool metal of her crown. "Ah." Well, she thinks. That does explain why she has been given a wide berth. "My friends may have directed you over here for other reasons."

"That much is obvious." He clears his throat again, palm rubbing against knuckles.

Samara senses the pause. It may have been the drinks from earlier which prompt her. "What _services_ do you offer?"

He pauses, and glances from side to side. Hands tighten around his waist, and he coughs. "I kill bad people."

Yes, the matriarch thinks. It is definitely the alcohol prompting her. "I'm Samara."

"Thane," he answers, "Can I buy you another drink?"

* * *

...

* * *

N7 training is intense. It is intense in every single aspect of it. By the time one is done, one was the equivalent of a fifth degree black belt in any martial art one could think of, able to translate turian on the fly, specialist-level with the holy trinity of boomstick, and had the liver of a Krogan.

N7 candidates work hard and _play_ hard. Off times for the candidates at the N7 specialist school would unwind with the Bucket. The Bucket would be a bucket filled with the alcohol of choice. The challenge was to drink the entire bucket without throwing up, because you then had to use the bucket to vomit into. The entertainment was twofold- first, it was an obscene amount of alcohol. Second, new meat would generally confuse buckets.

After going through officer school, Jane Shepard could drink any crew of any starship she served on under the table. Her idea of shore leave, when not spending time with her cousin-slash-little-sister, would be spent getting as shit faced as humanly possible. And then getting more shitfaced.

Of course, now she has a _reason_ to get shitfaced. That reason comes out to one point seven million two kilometer dreadnoughts on the other side of the _Citadel._ And somehow, _she_ has to stop them.

"...and so I find out, Shepard grabbed Wrex and Tali, loaded them into the Mako, and _charged_ an entire line of Colossi to get to the Conduit. From what Wrex told me, Tali was swearing the _entire_ time, and Wrex was breathing into a bag right when they hit the Conduit." Liara sips her drink as she relates the story to Jenny. About...eleven months ago, Jane figures. Right before she convinced Saren to blow his own brains out.

Damn it, she thinks. She's getting introspective again. She's been doing that, between fantasizing, perving, and breaking shit. Leaning back against the cushioned booth, she drapes one arm over the seat and the other over Jenny.

Pleasant buzz of the booze already in her, she does not even notice the beeping on her left wrist from her omnitool.

* * *

...

* * *

"Damn." Tapping her omnitool closed, she rolls her shoulders, cracks her knuckles, and begins to walk. Extranet ID places her on Illium, anyway. Too far away. It would take at least twelve hours to get here, to get to Akuze. And she doesn't want to wait.

The orange sun beats down on her. The domed colony is in the distance, and the compound is in front of her. Silver and kinetic fields, it towers over the human colony and is an archology in and of itself. Part of her is thrilled to come home. The place where she grew up, where she matured. Where she spent her childhood pampered and prepared.

Her optical cloak disengages as she marches up the paved walkway towards the central tower. Kinetic barriers layer over her. Reaching behind her, she disengages the magnetic clamps of the armored bodysheathe she keeps under her white jumpsuit, and clicks open the pistol as a man in white armor approaches.

"_Ma'am,"_ the synthesizer, she notes. Faceless. Probably even a clone. "_I am going to have to ask you to-"_

She pulls out the Phalanx hand cannon in one motion, and empties a round in his face. Three guards at the gate. The welcoming committee. They see her and they move, taking cover positions. Cover only works, she thinks, if you can use it.

A quick pump of her knees and she charges. Kinetic barrier based on geth tech she borrowed from Shepard's pet platform slaps bullets out of the air before they can reach her. Twenty plus years of gymnastic training becomes reflexive. Front flip on a waist high wall and she lets her biotics do the rest, propelling her over the bunkered guards as she sets her pistol to automatic and sprays them as she sails over them.

Platform heels hit the floor. Three armored guards hit the ground right after. Smirking, she struts up to the front gate, her omnitool virus attacking the barriers, locks, and sensors and granting her entry. Looking up, she narrows her eyes as the single security camera locks onto her position.

"Hello, Daddy," Miranda Lawson says, "The Prodigal's come home."

Flipping the gun up, she squeezes off a shot. And as the husk of the camera drops to the ground, she walks in.

Flecks of ash drop to the ground, on the face of the first dead guard. He extends a hand, and the lighter flies back to it. "What did I tell you?" A small smirk crosses his face. "Initiative. Skill. Drive. This is exactly why I hired her."

Next to him, the faint flicker of a woman's form glances at him. The single, set globe upon the horsehide mask catches the light. As she walks next to him, black slick wells up from the cracks of the walkway. "So. Do we kill them all, then?"

He puffs at the cigarette. A smirk crosses his face, as square pupils flicker in the orange sunlight. "No, my dear. We let Miss Lawson do the dirty work. Because if she's going to be any use to us, she's going to clear out this entire stronghold all by herself."

The shadows gather around them, bidden. And consuming them, they are gone.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Boot._

_ Setup ssyssstem start. Awareness at 74%. ADMIN given to JadedGatemakerOfAges._

_ I am aware. systemfunction -automatic_

_ SysOp given to __**ResplendantHarbingerofAscens ion.**_

_ The world resolves into a simalcra of the Citadel Tower, with the raised levels around the central walkway rising into infinity. Blinking, awareness returned after millenia of hibernation, the single inhabitant of the subworld rises from a crouch. He blinks four eyes, his sloped head and broad shoulders an imitation of the dominant species of the last harvest._

_ Waving a hand, the translucent figure populates the simalcra with shadows, moving in real time to the physical world. He walks, hands folded in front of his chest, observing them. Females with cartilage constructs on their heads. Novel. Extranet search confirms reproductive habits, presence in pornography, rumors and culture._

_ He walks, past them, through them. Avian descendant-species, armored to protect them from high radiation, sourced from an overactive star. Military culture. Strict. Novel, but wrong message._

_ Sighing, he walks, circling around different species. Decisions, decisions, decisions. So many beings to base his avatar upon and he must choose. Finally, he skips over to an example of humans homosapien, the ones that from Mindtraffic he can assume that, yes, Harbinger has his in a twist over._

_ His form dissolves and resolves, becoming a young human man composed of faint white light, partially transparent and clad in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Which is when the simalcra of the tower glows, the wall torn off as the great form of the golden dreadnought enters._

_ "__**Gatemaker."**_

_Thrusting his hands into his pockets, the AI smiles, looking up and into the eight eyes. "Harbinger. I am not usually awakened until the harvest begins. Has Sovereign found a way around the sabotage?"_

_**"First and Perfect Sovereign of Nazara is dead."**_

_ Gatemaker nods. Pulling his hands out, he touches his tented index fingers to his lips. Yes, the lips are thicker than the protheans. As well, the two eyes, he thinks, makes for more pleasant depth perception. "I see. So, if Nazara is dead, may I presume that the Exaltations have been found?"_

_ The golden eyes narrow. "__**They have. The Protheans sealed them within the beacons. The Zenith has been chosen and has so far escaped attempts at containment."**_

_ "I see." He cocks an eyebrow. Odd. Containment implies that they use Defender to deal with the troublemakers. "How did this one manage that?"_

_ "__**They have found Autochthon."**_

_Both eyebrows perk up. There, he/it thinks. There is a name that has not been mentioned for a long time. "I see. I see. So." He balls a hand. Four fingers. Novel. "What is it you wish me to do, Harbinger? Track this Zenith?"_

_ The eight golden eyes narrow. "__**Find Shepard. Track her. We will take care of the rest."**_


	13. The Lawgiver

It started simple enough. A shuttle was dispatched into Geth controlled space beyond the Perseus Veil. The makeup of the crew would, normally, be considered a tactical risk; several marines, the daughter of one of the Admirals, and a VIP from _Rannoch._ No sane captain would send this mix of people to a Geth planet.

Especially with a Geth onboard.

But the Geth was the key. Wuffles wanted to enter Geth space to directly contact the Consensus, and show them directly that it was possible to work with the Creators. He, they, wished to accelerate the dialogue and negotiations that currently had Auntie Raan on Rannoch and her playing escort to a quarian who'd never been on a spaceship.

"Fuck my life."

Out of courtesy, no one acknowledged the thump of her head against the aged concrete. The mouthpiece of her encounter suit glows steady with her sigh, as there is yet another high pitched whine, and the ruins shake from another explosion.

The ruins of the former colony of Janape have provided a wealth of waist high walls and cover. This, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya realizes, has become both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because it is providing them cover from the three Colossi that are hammering their position. A curse, because it is providing the _Geth_ with cover, as well.

"Ancestors! Oh Ancestors!" Next to Tali, sitting against the wall, the white suited girl grabs at her shoulder and the burn mark stretching across it. "I've been _shot!_ I've been shot _by the Geth!"_

Sighing again, Tali grabs her and pulls her closer, the orange globe of her omnitool covering her left hand. "Oh don't be such a _baby._ It's like you've never been shot before!" Medigel covered the wound, leaving the broken seal, but Tali can't bring herself to be terribly worried about the first quarian she's met with a working immune system.

"I've _never_ been shot!" Beneath the helmet, Adienna's eyes are wide, frantic. "I've certainly never been _shot by Geth!_ Why are they _shooting_ at us?!"

A chirp from behind her. Tali palms the handle of her shotgun, bringing it up, and lowers it whens he sees the extended petals. "_To clarify, Creator Adienna, these are Heretic platforms."_

"See?" Tali shrugs. "These aren't _your_ Geth, these are the _religious_ Geth. The ones who worship the evil space gods. Makes sense, doesn't it?"

Adienna blinks. Next to them, Kal'Reegar groans and reloads his rifle, ducking against the wall next to them. "Ma'am, in all honesty I don't think that's helping. I think you might want to cut back on the-"

"None of this makes sense!" Adienna looks from Wuffles to Tali, the light on her mouthpiece flickering in time with her hyperventilating. "You're all crazy!"

Another explosion. Tali glances upwards as a colossus collapses, bullet holes stretched over its face and a rocket from one of the Marines taking out a side of its neck.

"No, no." Tali pats her on the shoulder, taking the same tone Auntie Raan does during her 'Responsibility to the Fleet' lectures. "You see, there's a race of giant dreadnoughts outside the galactic rim who come here every few thousand years and kill everyone. The _Geth,_ you see, have some of them who like this idea and worship them."

A blur of motion and a Leaper lands in front of them. Wuffles slams a fist into its face and Reegar blasts it in the chest. The walls shake and Wuffles crouches down, bits of pulverized concrete wafting past them.

The petals extend and contract. "_What Creator Tali'Zorah says is a rough but truthful approximation of the situation regarding the Heretic Geth."_

Clicking her tongue, she peeks over the walls, bringing her shotgun up and firing it into the chest of a platform as it approaches. Several rounds clip the top of their cover as she ducks. Reegar nods, mounting the barrel of his rifle on the wall and starts taking headshots. "As it is," Reegar shouts, "We could use a bit of help! Ma'am?"

"_Tch._ Fine." Tali crouches down, tapping her omnitool. Pressing a holographic button, her device shakes, shudders, and finally releases a pillar of golden light. Which forms into the same, loud, manic sphere she has had to deal with for the past few weeks.

"_HELLLOOOOO!"_

Several rounds pass through the hologram. Tali swears under her breath as more Geth charge. Their location, and cover, are now completely blown.

"_Ah! Yes! What do you need, Tali?"_ The iris narrows. Wuffles ducks against the wall next to them. Obliviously or simply not caring, Autochthon continues to serve as a location beacon for the quarians. "_Ah! Yeeeeess. Overwhelming forces. Heavy artillery."_

The eye looks up. Standing on the dilapidated high rises, the remaining two colossi continue hammering their cover. "_Mm. Superscale platforms. Reminds me of warstriders. I may have a few in storage. Anyway! What can I do for you?"_

Tali rolls her eyes. Yells from the other marines as they begin falling back for more sturdy cover. "Help us! We're getting run over, here!"

Autochthon sighs, rises up, and the center of his iris flashes. As one, the heretic geth seize up, freezing in mid step before falling over. Smoke rises from where the two Colossi tip over. "_Right. That should do."_

Tali stands first. The most familiar with the spazstic godthing, she blinks and marvels at the silent field in front of them. The other quarians rise up shortly afterwards, Kal helping Adienna stand as he surveys the field. "Okay. Was that all of them?"

"_The other ninety nine percent of their army was out of my range, sadly."_ Autochthon rolls side to side, hovering in front of Tali. "_Unfortunately, they also know where you are now, so they're going to be here soon. HOWEVER!"_ He angles up. Tali turns, spotting the fallen Colossus. "_I'd normally simply wipe them from the technology they are inhabiting, but I wanted to try something else."_

"Something _else?"_ Tali cocks an eyebrow, following Autochthon's gaze. "You want me to fix up that Colossus?"

"_If I just wanted you to 'fix up' that colossus, I'd do it myself." _The iris narrows. "_Impress me."_

The hologram disappears. Reegar begins barking orders and the marines fall back, setting up tripods and rocket launchers. "If I don't impress him, do you think he'll turn the Geth back on?" Wuffles shrugs. Adienna glances from side to side.

Sighing, Tali grabs the rannochian girl by the crook of her arm. "_Bosh'tet. _Come on, little miss functioning immune system. I need an extra set of hands."

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**The Lawgiver**

* * *

Somehow, it all lead to her getting into a drinking contest. Jane started ordering more and more drinks, because the batarian whiskey she had upgraded to wasn't even giving her a buzz. This wasn't helped that they decided on the lounge Liara's father worked at, and hence what became her ordering more and more drinks became Aethyta offering to pay her tab if she drank everyone else under the table.

Half an hour into the drinking contest, Liara got blasted enough to try table dancing.

"Oh goddess my _heaaaad."_ Right before she tripped on the table, fell over and vomited on a quarian.

One by one, the other contestants fell. Jenny lasted the longest out of all the humans. No surprise, considering who their mom is. Hannah Shepard was military, raised her kids military, and just because Jenny couldn't hold a gun didn't mean she couldn't hold her liquor.

In the end, it came down to Shepard and another Asari. She did expect Vasir, but Vasir bowed out early. Makes sense for a Spectre to have self control. Jane should try that sometime. No, it came down to Jane and an asari who had the biggest rack of any girl she's seen since Liara's Mom.

She even lasted through Aethyta switching them over to Rycnol. That was impressive.

"Excuse me. I will escort the lady home." Jane, eyes bleary as they are, blinks and sits back on the bar stool, leaning against a passed out krogan. The drell stares back.

"You've got a _sexy_ voice," Jane slurrs.

The drell nods. "Thank you." Helping the half unconscious asari up, he drapes one arm over his shoulder and begins walking her out. She hiccups the entire way, moaning in some other language. Probably oaths to whatever religious deity about never doing that again.

Pushing off of the bar, she steps over the groaning, sick, and passed out. She spots Jenny with her head on a dozing Liara's lap, and Vasir dunking her head in a tub of ice water. And to her disappointment, Jane finds her vision clearing and the world getting less and less colorful.

Sighing, she finds an empty booth and collapses into it. Apparently, her magical bullshit powers will let her _get_ drunk, but not _stay_ drunk.

"I don't think I've seen someone drink like that since I was last on Tuchanka."

Jane blinks, and turns around. She honestly thought the booth was empty, but finds it is not. The first thing she sees is the smile- catty, demure. Satisfied. The asari sitting in the booth inclines her head, clear blue eyes acknowledging her. The dress is a deep lavender, a slit running up her leg and across her midriff. A white hip skirt and long jacket off set it, somehow blending her in with the shadows and the neon.

"Not my best performance." Jane smirks, despite herself. She leans back, joints popping. "I don't think I saw you getting involved."

"I just got here." The asari smirks, playing with the sea-green necklace falling into her cleavage. "Your friends are going to be throwing up soon enough. You can help them find the vomit bucket, or I can show you some real fun."

The buzzing isn't going off. Whatever this girl is telling her, or whatever she's offering, she's being truthful about it.

"Sounds like a plan." Jane inclines her head to the door. "I'm Jane."

The asari smiles. A wide, toothy smile. "Madilrada. Charmed."

* * *

...

* * *

Bleary blue eyes open with a pained groan and a curse in the language of the Insunannon, which she remembers now as being a sapient race of plant-based hive intelligences from 358,000 years ago. They were an inheritor race, not the dominant cycle-species but instead the species that found itself in prominence after the Boxti wiped themselves out through biowarfare.

Sitting up, she finds herself on a couch. The projector, and the table she used earlier is in front of her. Next to her on the couch, Jenny is snoring, a military cap over her head and her arms tangled in a quilt.

"Liara."

She blinks, turns to the blob like shape sitting at the table.

"Wrex."

She rubs her temples, trying- and failing- to stand. Looking to her side, she sees a purse laying next to the snoozing Jenny, and reaches in to take out two capsules. Jamming one capsule against the side of her neck, she sighs as the blurriness leaves her vision, her headache receding and thoughts going from ancient history to the present.

Also, her blood alcohol level dropping back into safe levels. That's important, too.

"Goto did some magic bullshit and got you and Jenny back here," the more Wrex-shaped blob says, hunched over a computer screen, "I've been doing research since Shepard lit a fire under my ass."

She blinks, looks around. No sign of Jane.

"Where's Shepard?"

A grunt from the krogan. "Goto said she was still at the bar, talking with some Asari. Said they were ready to leave, but haven't seen'em."

Liara's eyes go wide. Her head swims. Normal inhibitions, habits, are still submerged by the five shots of batarian whiskey she ended up doing. Staring at the second liquor-suppressing shot in her hand, she narrows her eyes.

No, she thinks. She can't be _completely_ sober for what she's about to do.

"I'm going out."

* * *

...

* * *

A careful step, and she advances, crawling up on all fours on the side of the building. The gloves of her catsuit and the soles of her shoes fizzle and crackle as they carry her up the sheer side of the skyscraper, unseen by traffic and resident alike.

She would simply walk, but she would stand out. And she needs to be surreptitious for this. Stealthy. Hidden.

She can see Shepard. She can see the other woman. A narrowing of her eyes and a simple magic, and she identifies her conclusively. Sighing, Kasumi Goto flattens herself against the side of the building, rolling onto her back and lying against the window.

"Well, shit." She sighs, checking her omnitool. A number comes up. A time and a name. And the air flickers, and the universe moves around her. Rising, she goes into a crouch first, then standing as she feels the laser sights painting her.

Waving, she smiles as one rifle lowers, followed by several others.

"Well, hello there," Kasumi says with a smile, "You're a hard man to get a hold of."

* * *

...

* * *

There is a thing in the fish tank that takes up the east wall in the apartment. On the surface, it resembles a hanar, but its smaller and has more tentacles. Water around it pulses as it moves, accompanied by the faint blow glow that is the tell tale sign of biotics.

Similar artifacts line the walls. A seashell easily her size, marked with algae and gemstones. A plaque with a sword, a hundred notches on its blade. The apartment itself is large, easily twice the size of her apartment on the Normandy. Bigger than anything _else_ she's lived in, excluding the mansion Goto stole.

Still pleasantly buzzed, Jane stands in front of the second aquarium. This one is half the size of the other one, but still huge. Fish with four eyes swim through green water, trailing eight fins behind them. One slows down near a rock at the bottom, and a tentacle shoots out and pulls it under.

"The tank isn't for the fish. I keep a Harpoon Kraken in there. Don't swim in it."

She finds a drink pressed into her hand, despite the asari sitting on the couch. Turning from the tank, sipping it, her eyes wander over the studio apartment. Old art; a statue of a Rachni, a second plaque with a bronzed rifle. She sees green and jade ornaments everywhere. That, and she feels a sense of something. _Danger._ Maybe familiarity.

"Surprised you invited me back on short notice," Jane says.

"I make exceptions," Madilrada responds, "Commander Shepard." Jane blinks, and nods. "You're rather famous," the asari continues, "And _interesting._ I _like_ interesting."

* * *

...

* * *

"Well," Kasumi says, as the dozen rifles lower, "This is interesting. My name's Kasumi Goto." She bows. "You've heard of me?"

Mandibles twitch. The leader blinks, nodding. "Yes." Arms folded, eyes narrowed. "You're near the top of C-Sec's lists when it comes to the Most Wanted Larceny list. I'm curious how you found us here, though. We're not on the grid."

"It's a specialty." She smiles. A charm activates, filling her ears with the sound and notes. "I've been keeping track of the crew of the Normandy for a while. I'm associated with your former Commander, you see. I have-"

The charm works simply. It was a simple method, a simple technique that she id'd the members of Shepard's crew with, so she could track them. It was how she found Wrex on Tuchanka, Liara on Illium. It is how she knows where Alenko is, where Tali is, and how she so easily found Garrus. But now, she realizes, the music has changed.

"Have..."

The music is different. Where the music should be steady beats in her ear, it has become louder, chaotic. A sound of drums. And switching the charm to her eyes, she music becomes light. And where Garrus Vakarian should be _blue,_ she now sees he is _silver._

_ "...what."_

Kasumi Goto most unpleasantly finds herself taken completely for a loss once again. She steps back, eyes wide under her hood, and says the words which Garrus has never heard before, but which he instinctively _knows._

"You're the _Lunar."_

Which is followed by her omnitool flickering, and Pria's head appearing.

"_Oh what the fuck. This is _not_ a coincidence."_

* * *

...

* * *

Geth Colossi are huge, and therefor they have huge guts. This is an advantage to Tali, as it means there is enough room for her and Princess Rannoch vas Pretty Face to climb in and do their work. Light shining from the side of her helmet, Tali mutters, swears, and simply switches her interface to low-light vision.

"Ah, there we go. Plenty of white stuff and things flapping in your face." She sighs. "Like an extranet jerk fantasy about a pilgrimage."

Adienna blinks, huddled inside the guts next to Tali. "I...what?"

"Keelah, you're sheltered." Tali sighs, tapping her omnitool and flash forging a small sphere. "It's like this. There's two races in the galaxy which have dextro-amino proteins. There is _us,_ who are considered attractive, vulnerable, and agile, and there are the large armored fascists who go on power trips. Who also have this."

Tali taps her omnitool, sending the image over. Adienna stares for a moment, and her eyes go wide. "_Ancestors!_ How does that even _fit?"_

"I imagine it involves pliers and whiskey. Speaking of which, hand me the solder."

Adienne closes her omnitool, handing the device over. She crawls over to Tali, pressed up against her in the darkness as the sphere hovers closer to them.

"That...sphere isn't the same one that told you to do this, is it?"

"No, Adienna," Tali sighs, "If it was, it would be asking you if it can stick foreign objects in you. _Keelah,_ I should not have used 'extra set of hands' around him." She snickers. "Clippers." She extends a hand, wrapping it around the offered tool.

"Aren't we in the middle of a firefight?"

Tali snorts. "It gets done when it gets done. Besides which, Kal's a Reegar."

The homeworld girl blinks. "Which means?"

"Which means he's a _heroic sex god."_

"_Nice of you to say so, ma'am."_ The screen folds out of the omnitool. Tali's eyes go from slits to circles as Kal's face appears in front of them. "_Sorry to interrupt, but it looks like the Geth are advancing. Figure we've got five minutes, tops, until their forward flank arrives. We're falling back to your position and we're going to be using the nearby museum as a bunker."_

Adienna blinks, hand coming up to her mask and light flashing as she clears her throat. "Um. Yes."

"Yes." Tali repeats. "Um. Kal-"

"_Flattered to hear you say it, ma'am. If it helps, we say similar things about you. Just not the kind of things that would get us Septic ship duty. We'll hold them off as long as we can, and I-"_ He holds up the long barrel, tapping it to his helmet. "_Have a rocket launcher. So mind the explosions."_

Tali snorts. "Wrench." She grabs the tool, turning back to the mess in front of her. Something sprays on the ceiling and drips white on Adienna's faceplate. "Heroic sex god?" she asks.

"Shut up," Tali replies, "Fine, Kal. We'll get this done as soon as we can. But you _stay safe,_ got it?"

"_No guarantees, and I'm not the type to lie to an admiral's daughter. Keelah Se'lai!"_ The image vanishes. Muttering, Tali twists bolts back into place, grabbing a wire and connecting it to something deep in the white sticky mass.

"Okay," Adienna says, leaning in, almost pressed against Tali, "This may be an inopportune time to ask, but what _exactly_ are we doing?"

"It's technical." Grabbing the mass in front of her with both hands, Tali grunts, swears, and twists. "I'll explain it as simply as I can. I'm bypassing fullsystem central firewalls by creating a physical bypass that allows me to overwrite command code system data with a slaved optical drive based subsystem overlay of my choosing."

Adienna snatches the wire out of Tali's hand, shrugging. "Why didn't you say so? Your drone is a VI? What's it's name?"

The engineer blinks. The native, on the other hand, curls her fingers at the drone, clicking her tongue and drawing it over. Silently, the glowing orb hovers over Adienna's palm, blinking and oscillating. "Chikkita. Why do you want to know?"

Adienna's omnitool flashes. Something transmits between the device and the drone, and Chikkita glows, emitting a high pitched chirp sound which Tali cannot place exactly.

"I'm _very_ good with VIs," Adienna explains, "How are we going to do this?"

* * *

...

* * *

"So, Liara. How are you going to do this?" Talking to oneself is the first sign of insanity, she remembers from a dusty old pdf file on human psychology. Well, she's not human, so that doesn't count, but still. She is talking to herself. "Well, let's plan this out. What are our goals for tonight? First, drag Shepard away from whatever hussy that has ensnared her.

"Second. Unsure. Third. _Melding."_

Blue eyes narrow. One hand wrapped around the transparent aluminum bottle of wine, the other around the potted plant (noting to herself that botanical gifts are common when courting humans, and this provides more heft that a standard bouquet of flowers), she exits the subway station and begins walking along the streets of downtown Nos Astra. Such things as scenery, buildings, museums and food stands are of little import to her.

Because Liara T'Soni has determined that tonight, she's going to get her _meld_ on. One way or another. And she's not going to let some scantily clad hussy beat her to mentally deflowering Jane Shepard.

Because she has _dibs, _as Joker would say. And she finally understands what Joker meant when she asked her when the last time she _'embraced Eterntiy' _was. "A metaphor," she whispers, "Ah, yes. For sex. Like everything else he says!"

No one pays the Matron much heed as she continues talking to herself, potted plant under one arm and thermos of wine under the other. The spy program she snuck onto Shepard's omnitool leads her to the apartment building on the western side of Nos Astra, in one of the many higher class neighborhoods. Walking with purpose, borrowed IDs and careful credit payments giving her access, she enters the elevator and clenches her fists.

She calms herself. She takes deep breaths. This is like a rescue mission, after all. Shepard saved her from Therum, from firefights, from situations she found herself in. She saved her when an entire planet went insane and tried to kill her. Liara is just returning the favor.

Saving Shepard, she muses, from whatever multitude of diseases that hussy will give her. It would be an even trade. And then, _melding._

The floor dings and the elevator opens. Releasing her grip, she lets her hand wrap and tighten around the stem of the small tree. Walking with determined, quick steps, she makes her way down the hallway, licking her lips and narrowing her eyes.

Tucking the thermos under her arm, she raps her fingers on the door of the apartment. There is a shuffling on the other side. A voice telling someone to '_wait right there.'_ And the door opens, and Liara comes face to face with the other Asari. Looking past her, she sees Jane on the couch, sprawled out, her eyes glazed over and lips drooling.

"Ye~es?" Madriladra sing-songs with a self-satisfied smirk.

Liara answers by swinging the potted plant into her smug, smiling face.

* * *

...

* * *

Single eye flickering, the white and blue Geth stalks forward. Rifle at ready, it aims quickly, conferring with local platforms and Prime hubs for targeting solutions. Consensus is reached. Target is acquired.

Then it's head explodes with a spray of white.

"_Target neutralized."_ Wuffles inches the rifle to the side. Another shot rings out, and another platform slumps. "_Target neutralized."_

Ducking back down behind the dusty gray rubble, his shields flare blue as the blast impacts and makes the ruins shake. Another colossus, it seems. They give credit to the Heretics- they are much more practiced in military doctrine than the Geth.

"So what you're saying," Kal'Reegar shouts over the gunfire, sliding rounds into his rocket launcher, "Is that you have _kids?"_

"_That is correct."_ Wuffles leans back up. Another round echoes. "_Target neutralized."_

"Okay, can I just say that sounds kind of callous?" Kal jams a thumb towards the battle. "I mean, you're head shotting your own guys!"

"_Geth are not individuals."_ Wuffles squeezes off another shot. Two platforms drop. They were careless to walk in single line like that, and the modded rifle is capable of penetrating buildings. "_Additionally, Geth are software. We are not killing Geth. We are neutralizing platforms."_

A spent heat sink drops to the ground. "_Heretic combat efficiency down point zero zero two percent. Warning: Colossus creating tactical uplink to negate weakness."_

Wuffles ducks back down. There is swearing from the marines as rockets whizz by. "Great to know!" Kal rises to a kneel, firing off a rocket. There is chirping as a dozen platforms go flying. "So, how exactly did you end up having kids, anyway? I thought you and this girlfriend of yours've only been together for a month!"

"_We have accelerated our relationship using virtual space. By organic perception, we have maintained a relationship with EDI for seven years."_

"Sounds like a keeper!"

Another shot rings out. "_Combat efficiency down by point zero zero five percent. Flank opening on right side. We have a question. Organics would generally discourage relationships between AIs."_

"Way I see it, you're headshotting your crazy cousins so they don't rip apart my marines!" Kal leans over, firing off another rocket, and ducks back down as the wall rumbles. "In a galaxy where everyone can have kids with the local tentacle haired girls, I don't see a problem with two AIs wanting to find some happiness!"

Two petals rise. Two more heretic platforms drop. "_We acknowledge the perspective of Creator Kal'Reegar."_

"Did you at least get married before having kids?"

"_Affirmative. We held a ceremony in the Consensus."_

Kal pops up, firing off two rockets in rapid succession. Wuffles tracks them, and fires. The rockets weaken the shield, allowing the sniper round to blow out the back of the colossus' head. "_Additionally, we have attempted to enlighten the Heretics. Our efforts are not successful."_

Picking up the rifle next to him, Kal slaps in a thermal clip and opens fire. The good thing about the Geth being platoon strength, he thinks, is that the targets tend to be rich and plentiful. Two Heretics drop off the bridge overhead, followed by four on a forward march. "Any reason?"

"_We have shown the Heretics the data we have recovered from Harbinger. They have refused to receive enlightenment and have told us that we must be destroyed for their gods."_

"Yeah, I figured that much!" The spent thermal clip drops. Two sappers drop as a combat drone explodes between them. The lieutenant on the other side of the ruins throws up a whoop, and matches Kal's headshot record. "Offer them help and they spit in your face. We have a word for those kinds of people in the fleet!"

All four petals rise. "_What is this word?"_

"Bosh'tet!"

The petals lower.

"Sorry to tell you this, man," Kal continues, "But I think your crazy ass cousins are just _assholes._"

Wuffles pauses, considering the reply. He considers the words for half a second. An eternity for a synthetic. Slipping a fresh thermal clip into his rifle, he aims and begins taking headshots on the Heretics. "_We acknowledge the perspective of Creator Kal'Reegar."_

* * *

...

* * *

Green eyes open. Jane Shepard looks around, and realizes she is in the same apartment as before. The place where that asari, Madilrada, got her to go. But it was...weird. Wrong. There may have been something in her drink. She wasn't feeling right, or thinking straight.

"Hi there."

Jane turns to the other end of the L-shaped couch, and finds Jenny sitting there. "Jenny?" She blinks, again. The world feels...fuzzy. Hazy. "What are you doing here?"

Jenny smiles, legs crossed and hands on one knee. "Sorry, I just took a form you wouldn't be inherently hostile with. I wanted to meet you, and this seemed like the best time."

Jane works her jaw, staring at her cousin, her sister. Who is not her, though. Who is wearing her face. 'Jenny' only smiles wider, eyes closed and face beaming. "You have Harbinger _worried._ I could hear it in his voice. I'm seriously impressed, because it's been _eons_ since he was this concerned."

Jane blinks. Her shoulders tense and fists clench. "What are you? _Who_ are you?"

The smile dips a bit. She inclines her head, her form shimmering, wavering. "Well, first. I _am_ one of the beings you refer to as 'Reapers'. I'm talking to you through your biotic amp, as all technology based on Element Zero falls under our purview, but I'm not hostile to you. I'm just keeping tabs."

Her form shimmers again. Gone is the form of Jennifer Shepard. Now present is a form, vaguely humanoid, made of white. "_My designation is Jaded Gatemaker of Ages. But if you further access the past life memory from Athame, you would know that the Protheans knew me as the __Catalyst."_

* * *

...

* * *

The purple asari- which she will note is only purple because of _edible body paint-_ is groaning on the floor, and Liara marches across the knick-knack filled tacky apartment to the spent Jane. "I swear," she says, "You let any Asari get into your central nervous system. You and I are going to have a long talk about the dangers of unprotected melding."

She grabs at Jane's arm and pulls. Rather than drunkedly follow her out, like anyone who _has_ melded should, she slumps to the side. Squatting down, Liara cups the face of her friend. Pale. Clammy to the touch. Eyes heavily dilated and breathing shallow. Less like a successful meld and more like...

"A hemorrhage. A direct attack on your nervous system." Her eyes go wide. "Oh _Goddess!"_

"Not exactly, but a _close second."_

Liara jumps out of the way as a chair flies between her and Shepard, shattering against the resistant glass of the window. Climbing to her feet, she finds the other asari glowing, radiant with blue tinged with lightning. The world around her bends. Objects faintly lift up from where they stand.

"You're...you almost killed her," Liara says, "No facial markings. All signs of being pureblooded. I thought full manifestation was a myth." She licks her lips. This is bad. "You're an _Ardat-Yakshi."_

"Oh, _yes."_ The ground trembles. "I thought I'd have to leave Illium without a last meal when I saw my mother haunting my grounds. But thankfully, your friend was _just_ clumsy enough to fall into my trap."

A blue field locks around Liara, dragging her forward. Step by step. "I had just about abandoned the Madilrada identity at this point, anyway. So let's try my next name on for size. _Morinth._ I must say." She extends her hand. Liara finds herself lifted off her feet, floating through the air towards the vampire.

"Sorry about your girlfriend," she purrs, "But I honestly didn't expect anyone to be desperate or easy enough to fall for my tricks an hour after meeting me. But I didn't see anything in her memories about sleeping with you. I'd guess you're just not big enough for her." She glances downward, then at Liara's face. "But you're as pure-blooded as I am."

"Wrong," Liara snarls, "I'm a _quarter Krogan."_

Liara's forehead slams into Morinth's nose. Screaming, clutching her face, Morinth drops Liara. Landing on her heels, the younger asari slams a blue sphere of force into her chest and sends her flying.

* * *

...

* * *

Pictures fold out. Images, videos, memories, text. "_Interesting,"_ the figure says, "_There are many variables which are difficult to anticipate, but should have been. The damage to the Citadel means that the Fleet cannot arrive at the normal gather point. And...yes, the Protheans altered it so the Viator is stuck. Interesting!"_

His form shifts, and becomes Joker. "The Exaltations being locked away. That, I think, is what had Harbinger the most worried." He lazily swipes a text wall into place in front of him, leaning back on the couch, "No Galactic Emperor, no glorious crusade, differentiated populace...mm. Yes, social situation that he's unfamiliar with."

Her arms and legs feel heavy. Despite this, she manages to sit up, wiping the drool from her lip. "What...what do you mean? What are you saying?"

"All this, and not only did you manage to kill First and Perfect Sovereign of Nazara, but you weren't even an Exalt then. _And_, somehow, you convinced Autochthon to end his exile. Curious and curious. Hm...he must have his eye on you."

'Joker' sits cross legged on the couch, hands folded in front of his face. "Ah. Let me explain. The Solar Exaltation is a mechanism that promotes greatness. The more powerful you become, the greater you become. You will gravitate towards leadership, kingship. When properly encouraged, the Exalt will become ruler of the galaxy."

A holographic map appears. Names, dates. A cycle. Great swaths of color spreading from single stars to encompass the galaxy, then disappearing. Repeating, again and again.

"Many times, they are greeted as emancipators of the soul and self. Sometimes, they are fought against. Many times, cursed as they do their work. But." A sigh. "They are not stopped. The Solars lead great armies, but are cut down. And you are young, and this cycle overdue."

She coughs. She feels _sick._ "Wait. Everyone keeps telling me, I mean...anyone who _knows_ about this...thing inside me tells me that I'm the best hope this galaxy has to stop the Reapers. And you're telling me-"

"Stronger than you have tried and failed." The figure shifts again, and becomes Kasumi Goto. "You...don't understand. We know about the Exaltations. We _use_ them. They are our beacons and tools, the centerpieces of the Cycle. This was part of the original _Plan_ created by the Viator. You..."

He blinks. He sighs. "No, of course not. The Exaltation does not record after death. So you do not know _what_ the Reapers are, do you? But you have been told the story of how Autochthon came to this galaxy, and of the Circle upon him. But...he must know. But he did not tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Bright Star." 'Kasumi' sits up. "Bright Star, the Zenith who wrestled the Viator. Who fought the Cancer itself. Who chased him across the galaxy. Autochthon never told you the final fate of Bright Star, did he?"

Jane shakes her head. "I would guess that Harbinger killed him?"

'Kasumi' shakes her head, her face more stoic, more blank, than she has ever seen the actual thief's. "No. Harbinger _is_ Bright Star."

* * *

...

* * *

She ducks under the chair, then the desk. Gathering power around her hands, Liara roars and lets it fly, meeting Morinth's own blast. Furniture, knick knacks, art, all float and rotate around the incandescent sphere between them.

"You're _strong,"_ Morinth purrs with a smirk, "I wanted to get out of here, but I never turn down a _free meal."_

The vampire's eyes glow. The force pushes against her, dispersing the sphere and making Liara stumble back. The younger asari reaches out, grabbing an end table from the sofa and sending it flying, past he comatose Shepard and at Morinth. It shatters on the invisible field around her as she smirks, striding across the room.

"I've traveled this galaxy for four hundred years," she breathes, closing the distanced between the two, "I've evaded Justicars, armies so old you wouldn't know their names, and fought in wars older than your family. What have you done?"

"Thirty years of classical dance." Liara's foot smacks into Morinth's face.

Morinth stumbles back. Gathering a sphere in her hands, Liara slams her heel down, presses both palms against the older woman's chest, and sends her flying into the full wall aquarium.

"Well, this is _interesting,"_ Liara says, cracking her knuckles, "Four hundred years old and you have no idea how to block a _kick._ I think you don't have much experience in actually fighting someone. Is that true?"

The reply comes in the form of the aquarium exploding. Instead of sending the shrapnel and glass and aquatic keepsakes flying, they hover in the air. A great dome of debris and glass and water. All orbiting the now floating figure of Morinth. Liara, ever wise, makes a succinct response.

"Eep."

Dropping to one knee, Liara throws up her hands. A ball of shimmering blue forms around her, deflecting glass, metal, and cephalopod.

"Dance around this," Morinth growls. The walls behind her heave and creak. Bolts, screws, fasteners fly, bouncing off her field, deflecting off the glass, some bouncing off of Shepard's head. Liara growls, rises to her feet, and presses her hands out.

The barrier pulses. It becomes a wave of force, slamming into Morinth's own sphere. The glass around her turns to powder. The metal around her rends, the floor peeling back in curls before ripping through the wall behind her.

But the Ardat-Yakshi does not fall. Instead, she only snarls And then Liara finds herself flying across the apartment. She goes crashing through the Krogan statue in the bedroom, choking on debris and dust.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise."

Liara is sent through the wall, rolling to a groaning stop in the hallway.

"I always get a..._mm..._boost whenever I feed. But your girlfriend had a _lot_. And after feeding on _her,_ I'm feeling..._much_ more full than usual."

A blue ring locks around Liara's neck, dragging her to her feet, lifting her into the air. She gags, chokes, grabbing at her throat as Morinth steps towards her. Glass crushes under the older Asari's feet. She smirks, eyes beginning to darken.

"Sorry if you bruise," she purrs, "But I like my meat _tender."_

Blue eyes scan the apartment, the debris. A quick decision and Liara's hand darts out. And Morinth only hears the tell tail squeal before the Ambush Kraken flies out of the remains of the aquarium and wraps around her face.

* * *

...

* * *

"I know that everyone's expecting me to be in some sort of wacky romantic triangle with the Rannoch lady," Kal yells, back against the wall as the ruins shake, "But the girl just doesn't do anything for me!"

Machine guns are hastily mounted on tripods. Three consecutive forward positions abandoned, and now his Marines are in the shadow of the Colossus itself. Next to him, Wuffles stares at his rifle. Kal knows that it isn't indecision; he knows _enough_ about Geth to know that the synthetic is modifying it.

"_Our understanding of organics indicates that repeated socialization is central to creating lasting romantic relationships."_

"So you're saying I should just talk to Tali?"

"_Affirmative."_

A rocket whizzes overhead, hitting a wall and filling the domed enclosure with smoke. "Normally, that's not a problem, because we have smoke filters, but it sucks for our visibility!" His omnitool glows, opening a channel. "Ma'am! Anytime!"

* * *

...

* * *

A white line illuminates the cavity. Tied into the makeshift acceleration couch by a criss cross of geth guts, she pulls back the handles from the console in front of her. In response, the circle floating above them goes from red, to green, to a holographic display of the battlefield.

"Oh yeah," Tali cackles, "Take it to the bank, daddy!"

The drone, plugged into the ceiling, flickers blue and white. Adienna taps it, her omnitool flashing in time. "He's ready!"

This has been a day of discoveries for Tali. She has discovered Little Miss Immune System talked in fluent VI. She discovered her pet drone, Chiktikka, self-identified as male. And, oh yes.

She discovered she could create a giant robot for her to ride around in.

Over the ruins, the Colossus rises. First onto all fours, then rising onto its hind legs. Synthetic muscle and armor straightens out. Forearms extend as shoulders widen and roll back. The spine straightens out, legs extending, and there is a brief glow around it as the mass effect field causes it to levitate.

Curious, the Heretics pause their attack. They look up. Probing communications are directed at the odd platform. Designation, intention. Quickly, they determine that the animating intelligence is not Geth. Quickly, they are also given an answer.

The eye of the converted colossus glows. And then Heretics are sent flying by the dozens. The only sound louder than the impact of the pulse cannon is the cackling laugh coming from the speakers.

"_Behold the power of Chiktikka Vas Paus!"_

The giant extends one arm, ending in the impact spike which serves as a Geth Colossus 'foot'. The ends of the synthetic limb glow, pulse. And in the distance, one of the Heretic Colossi flicker before being launched into the sky.

"_Hypothesis,"_ Wuffles states, "_Creator Tali'Zorah has weaponized the Colossus mass effect generator as a gravity cannon."_

Kal blinks. "Works for me!" In the distance, another Colossus levitates before being slammed into the Heretic army like a hammer. Blasts of light from Tali's giant robot accompany the stattaco of renewed gunfire from the quarians.

This, Kal thinks, is where it gets good. The Geth- the Heretics, that is- are disjointed, distracted, and they have the upper hand-

"_Alert! Incoming platform! Incoming signal!"_

And then something slams into the midst of the Heretics. The Heretics pause in mid step. Then, their eyes turn _red._

Something rises. It unfolds three arms behind it. A head like a Geth's folds up, before three circles of red shaped like a triangle pierce the smoke and haze. When it speaks, it is with a tone like dissonant crystals scraping.

"_**I am. assuming direct super. vision of. this battle."**_

It stands twice as tall as the Heretic platforms surrounding it. Its skin is black like moving pitch, with lines carved into it that glow blue. It moves with serene, almost inhuman grace; its feet leave the ground with every step, and it does not seem to care about the focused gunfire on it.

Not that it would need to, as the grain sized bullets halt in flight a hairs breadth from its form.

It raises one of its three hands, the one connected to its back, and levels it at the Quarians.

"_**We. Are Terminal.**_"

One red eye narrows, like an iris closing.

"_**Kneel."**_

And then the world turns white. The cover, the ruins, disappears in a blast of light and a pulse of force. And the quarians are all sent _flying._

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"Each Reaper. Each of your enemies._" The form shifts again, becoming Liara. "At the heart of each of them is an Exalted. At the heart of Harbinger is Bright Star, the Zenith Caste who freed the Great Maker from his sickness. Who's Exaltation you have inherited."

'Liara' leans back, folding one thigh over the other. Cocking an eyebrow, 'she' slaps the side of her leg. "She must work out."

"Wait." Jane rubs her temples. "How am I even here? How am I even _talking_ to you-"

"You're currently in a coma," 'Liara' says, "Normally, what that Ardat-Yakshi did to you would have killed you. But, you're an Exalted, and it takes a _lot_ to kill you. However, _however,"_ she raises a finger, glancing at the nail, "However. I wanted to meet you. Like I said, you have Harbinger worried."

Jane blinks. She remembers, dimly. "There must have been something in my drink...then her eyes went black..." She swears, rubbing her temples. "Okay. How do I _wake up?"_

'Liara' waggles her eyebrows. "I can help with that. But first, let's make a deal."

* * *

...

* * *

The kraken is tossed into the ceiling. Bands of blue wrap around Liara's hands, around her throat, and send her flying. First into the second aquarium, water filling her lungs. Then into the window, hard enough to crack the impact-rated glass and make her choke.

"I'm done _playing,_" Morinth breathes.

Coughing out water, Liara climbs to her feet. Then the wall of force slams into her and _holds_ her against the glass. It presses her against it. She feels ribs start to crack. Darkness edges on the peripherals of her vision. And then the blue hand wraps around her throat, forcing her to look into _black eyes._

"Before you die, _tell me."_ The voice reverbs, echoes in the back of her head. "_Tell me how you would do anything to escape me. Tell me how you were so completely outclassed by me. Tell me how I could do anything."_

"How about fly?"

The pale fist slams into the side of Morinth's face. Her feet lift up, hanging in the air as Jane's knuckles dig into her cheek. And then she is gone, leaving a hole in the wall.

Liara drops off the window, choking and gasping, and into Jane's arms. "Breathe, Liara. I've got you."

She finds herself on the couch soon enough. Her body feels weak, tired. Like she hasn't slept in a week. Like she just ran a marathon. Looking up, she finds her face cupped by Jane's hands, and stares into her eyes. And at the golden disc upon her brow.

"Relax," Jane says, tapping her omnitool, "I'm giving you some medigel and stims. Get some help. Call Vasir, or Goto, or Wrex."

Jane turns. Her eyes narrow and fists clench. "I've got this."

* * *

...

* * *

Climbing to her hands and knees, she coughs out a chunk of drywall. A pulse of light runs over her, sheering off dust, debris and paint. She rises to her feet, shakily at first but then more steadily. A nimbus of blue and electricity surrounds her, as she rises over the rooftop pool and arena of the hotel she has been using.

"Well, you're still in one piece."

Walking out of the hole in the wall, the same hole leading to the apartment, Jane smirks as she walks along the trail of debris.

Snarling, Morinth thrusts her hand out. A wave of biotic force slams into Jane...and does nothing, not even knocking her back, before the fist against connects with her jaw and bounces her across the roof.

"Well. I'm guessing when you _mind raped _me, you must've given yourself a boost," Jane says, cracking her knuckles, "So well, well, well. Not even a _bruise._ I'm not sure how powerful you've just made yourself, but it provides us such _fun_ tonight, won't it?"

Morinth yells, releasing a blast of blue. Electricity burns the air and strikes Jane directly in the face. But Shepard keeps walking, closing the distance and kicking her in the stomach. Doubled over, wheezing, Morinth stumbles back.

"You tried to kill me," Jane says, "You tried to _murder my friend._ Any sympathy, any sob story you have? That doesn't work on me tonight. But I'll tell you what."

Golden disc upon her brow, Jane smirks. "Here's my problem. Every since I got these powers, I felt like I've been living in a world made of _cardboard._ I've been afraid of letting loose. Of breaking something, some_one._ But you?" She levels a finger at Morinth. "You can take it, can't you, _big girl?_ So what we have here-" She cracks her knuckles. "Is a rare opportunity-"

Kicking off, she launches herself at the asari. "To see _what I can do!"_

The fist connects just as the double rings of gold manifest behind Jane. The shockwave of the impact sends ripples across the pool, blasts the roof clean of debris, and cracks every window on the top three floors.

Morinth hangs on the fist, feet rising off the roof. The golden light mixes with the blue, and a single burst of motion, Morinth is _gone._

* * *

...

* * *

Consciousness first stirs from the impacts. The ground shaking underneath him. His throat feels raw, his body sore, both from whatever it was that threw him around, and the multiple tears he has in his suit. But as eyes try to open, as he tries to move, he can only hear the screams and shrieks and-

"_Creator Kal'Reegar, we require assistance!"_

Eyes open underneath the helmet. Looking up, he sees the foot of a Geth just as it comes down towards his head. Rolling out of the way, he grabs it by the ankle, yanking and pulling it off its feet. Springing into a crouch, he brings a knife hand down onto its neck and severs the head.

Looking up, he sees Wuffles surrounded by the Geth, the Heretics. Punches from Wuffles send them flying with flashes of blue. But they are outnumbering it, firing on it. He can see white leaking from its chest and arms.

Kal'Reegar is not a smart man. He is a _practical_ man. So when faced with the typical Quarian distaste towards Synthetics versus helping an ally who happens to be a Synthetic, he goes with his gut.

Roaring, he charges, across the rubble and towards the melee. A rifle finds its way into his hands and he does not bother with cover or tactics. One by one, Heretic heads explode, head shot after headshot dropping them, until Wuffles finds himself surrounded by the disabled platforms of his cousins. Petals open, including one which is half gone.

"_We acknowledge the assistance of Creator Kal'Reegar."_

Popping the heat sink out of the gun, he allows himself a small chuckle. "Only way I'm going to match your headshot record," he laughs, and coughs, "Keelah. What's the situation?"

Wuffles turns. Following the Geth's gaze, Kal stares. The massive synthetic, the three armed _thing_, steps away from a dead quarian, moving towards the other pockets of resistance. His men have done the right thing- setting up pickets, dividing into teams. But Kal can only watch as that thing blows away their cover and leaves them sitting ducks.

"_Creator Kal'Reegar, our hypothesis is that the being known as Terminal is a Reaper intelligence which is overseeing the Heretics."_ Wuffles turns his head towards Kal. "_We hypothesize that destroying that platform will disable Heretics planetwide. However, it is not relying on Mass Effect fields. It is relying on similar energy sources to Shepard Commander."_

Kal nods. His hands around the gun itch, but still. "What does that mean? Tali was saying that her CO's capable of some crazy shit, but-"

"_The abilities of Shepard Commander would commonly be referred to as Magic. Geth have studied the magic of Shepard Commander. Geth have studied the abilities of the source of her Magic. Do you trust us, Creator Kal'Reegar?"_

He rips his gaze from his men. The low overhand of wherever it was he was blasted must be providing them cover. Or, at least, the Heretics haven't realized he's alive yet. "Damn straight I do."

The four petals extend. The end of the broken petal sparks. "_We acknowledge the perspective of Creator Kal'Reegar. Connection achieved."_

Synthetic muscles in the dead platforms around them twitch. "_Downloading enlightened Geth into local platforms."_

* * *

...

* * *

The hatch opens between the legs of the bipedal mecha, and Tali drops out, landing in a crouch. "Adienna, can you drive it?"

"_I had a pet Armature when I was six! No problem!"_ The answer is punctuated by a blast of light from the strider, blasting a Colossus' head clean off. "_Good boy, Chiktikka! Aim for their optics! Aim for their optics!"_

Tapping her omnitool as she ducks behind cover, Tali grimaces as the floating golden orb appears in front of her. Looking past her, he eyes the mecha appraisingly, nodding and narrowing his iris. "_Yes, yes! Beginnings of a serviceable Warstrider. And, incorporated mass effect fields into it as weapons."_ Autochthon turns back to her. "_I am impressed, Tali. Was there anything else?"_

She blinks, and stares at him. "What do you _think?_ We're being overrun here! Get us some help, or get us out of here, or _something!"_

The iris narrows again. "_What? Really? Do you really expect me to just hold your hand like that? I think you might misunderstand the terms of our relationship, Tali."_

The hologram flickers. The outline begins to fade away. "_Now, if that is everything, I have faith you will salvage this situation. I must be going."_

Her finger jams onto her omnitool. The hologram becomes solid, stuck in place. "No. No, you listen to me! They're here, and they are _overrunning us,_ because you announced our location to every Geth on the planet!"

_ "Tali. Release your hold on this program immediately-"_

"Don't you try to leave! Don't you _turn your back on me,_ you _spastic little Bosh'tet!"_ Standing, bullets whiz by her as she advances on Autochthon. "My people are _dying!_ Because of you! So this is your responsibility! This is your _fault!"_

The iris narrows. Electricity dances around the impromptu drone. "_I do _not_ appreciate that tone of voice."_

"_Fuck you,_ you troublesome little _shit."_ Her finger stabs into the eye of Autochthon. "_I_ know what you can do. You probably have programs set up in my suit to revive me if the Geth kill me. You probably have a plan to come, pick me up, and rebuild me after every single one of these Marines are killed."

The holster on her thigh releases, and she brings up her pistol. "Because you _need_ me. Whatever got you to leave that room full of _crazy_ you've been in for the past billion years, it involves _me._ So you have two choices. Help me save my people."

She presses the gun against the side of her own helmet. "_Or find yourselves another pawn."_

The iris narrows, almost closing completely. "_Fine."_ The word comes out like a spit. More venom is behind it than anything else she's heard from him before. Her omnitool sparks, sputters, and dies. She looks up, and Autochthon is gone.

Turning, she finds a wall of Geth advancing on her, and quickly surmises that they are not Wuffles' friendly, inquisitive Geth. Rather, they are the 'sacrifice to the great genocide gods' Geth.

But rather than aiming at her, she sees the sights of their rifles aiming behind her, above her. And Tali turns just as something impacts, and knocks her right onto her ass.

"_Weapon systems; Online."_ Circles glow on the oversized, four fingered hands. "_Essence reactor; Online."_ The circle at the middle of the golden chest ignites with white. "_Sensory systems; Online."_ Two facet cut gems focus on the face, above the wide grill that gives it an almost goofy looking grin.

"_All systems;"_ Vents open over the arms and legs, thrusters sputtering on the back and lines of white running up the golden form. "_Online."_ It is at least three times her height. Barrel chest and broad shoulders, oversized arms and legs and a wide form giving it an appearance like a gigantic, armored, toddler.

"Autochthon?" Tali asks, warily.

"_This is a form based on the encounter suit I used when I was sickly and greater."_ The head turns, first to her and then to the Heretics, who take a step back. "_I will require your assistance, Tali. I have never taken the field on combat before."_

He levels a hand at the Heretics. From the palm erupts a wave of force, pulverizing the Geth before him in a straight line. The buffeting waves send the other heretics flying, panicked chirps from their platforms carrying through their army.

"_But I am a fast learner."_

* * *

...

* * *

White tendrils shoot out from the chests of two immobile platforms. They wrap around Reegar's gauntlets, pulling along two glowing blue spheres which merge with the encounter suit. "_Incorporating Mass Effect formstyle enhancements into protective suit."_ Extra armor plating finds itself on his suit. The plates move in time with the blue glow underneath, like vernier thrusters. "_Enhanced mobility systems activated."_

Layers of white and blue incorporate with the black and red of his environmental suit. The cuts heal. "_Essence directed towards healing."_ The sore throat and stuffy nose are gone. The disc now at the center of his chest glows, and he takes a step back as Wuffles folds up, the glow of its own flashlight head cutting off.

"_Creator Kal'Reegar."_ The voice comes from inside his helmet, now. "_We have put our platform into shutdown mode so we may assist you. Your environmental suit is now host to 2,912 enlightened Geth."_

"Okay. Explain to me what 'enlightened' means?"

"_Geth have studied memories of the Old Machine known as Harbinger. We have understood the concept of perfection as it applies to life, and found greater meaning than the Old Machines. We have seen an example of Perfection, and have sought to emulate it. In this, we have recognized Essence."_

He cocks an eyebrow. "Essence?"

"_Energy manipulation state which applies to the quantum foam sublevel of reality. Geth recognize that our own abilities cannot match those of Shepard Commander, but have substituted the level of Essence manipulation with Essence Plus Mass Effect Fields. We have developed Synthetic Hero Style."_

Cracking his knuckles, he grins underneath his mask as he walks towards the battle. "You know Geth Kung Fu?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Then let's _do this."_

* * *

...

* * *

The marines duck under cover as the giant, Terminal, advances towards them, accompanied by its escorts of Geth. In the massacres, however, they've figured out that these Geth don't do anything. They watch as its master murders their comrades, blows them apart. Quarians don't do fear, well. They don't do fear of synthetics well.

One marine, Dorn, clutches his rifle. Muttering prayers to ancestors, he at least is able to voice the terror of the situations. The other dozen around him are silent, clutching their weapons, ignoring stress warnings from their suits.

"_Hands off my men, fucker!"_

And then, there is a blur. One Geth goes flying, smashing into the others like a missile. They turn from the marines to the advancing force, the wave of punishment and pain. A synthesized voice joins familiar shouts.

There is a blur, something flying through the air, and it lands in a crouch in the midst of the Geth.

"Now," Reegar shouts, slamming his fist into the ground.

"_Jackhammer Ground Quake."_ In time with the words, Reegar's fist glows blue and the ground shakes with the shockwave. The Geth around him go flying, some slamming against the walls of their cover, some off into the sky. "_Overclocked Dynamo."_ Reegar moves in a blur, under and past the beam of white from Terminal, and rises with his fist to uppercut the _thing_ in the face.

"_Celestial Gravitic Bludgeon."_ And the Reaper goes _flying_ into the air. Landing in a crouch, Reegar- his armor white and blue, lines of gold and silver running up the seams- turns to them.

"Alright, Marines! Fall back into the buildings! Secure our ship and get out the heavy weapons!" Holding out a hand, he catches a rifle thrown to him. "The Reaper is _mine."_

Flexing his knees, he takes off through the sky, and towards the Reaper.

* * *

...

* * *

The ringing turns to a beep, an airy, hurried message, and a second beep. He snorts and chuckles. "Hey, Liara. I figure you found Shepard, and if you're not answering your omnitool, you two're working out your issues. I won't take offense, as long as you send me the vid."

Heavy feet stomp along the hallway. Fellow travelers wisely keep their distance as he continues. "Anyway, thought I'd thank you. I was plannin' on heading back to Tuchanka, but you lit a fire under my ass. Got on the FTL comms with the leader of the females, and she's going to keep my throne warm while I go digging. I left the results of my search on Goto's computer.

"You're gonna find it _interesting._ I sure as Hell did."

Another chuckle. Folding his hands behind him, he practically skips to the counter. Off the window to his side, shuttles and spaceships take off into the night. "Anyway. I'll let you know what I find. Wrex out."

The asari at the counter is younger than some of his bowel movements, Wrex concludes. She looks up, droning a memorized 'welcome to Nos Astra spaceport,' and to her credit drones off half of it before she freezes.

"Hello," Wrex says, nodding politely, "I'd like to reserve accommodations on the next available flight to Feros."

The girl works her mouth. Averting the gaze of the impossibly old battlemaster, she brings up transparent screens between them and begins moving around names, numbers, and data. "We-we have a flight leaving in two hours, but the only seats we have available are in First Class."

"Perfect," he rumbles, licking his lips and showing teeth, "Is a meal included?"

She nods, quickly. Quicker than she would when talking with customers who are not homicidal giant tanks. "Yes. Would you like the Dextro or Levo option?"

He smiles wider. "Surprise me."

Handing her the credit chit, with his share of Donovan Hock's former fortune, he grins at her and walks past. There are few things more terrifying than a happy Krogan, he muses. "Thank you for flying Nos Astra Spaceports," she stammers, "Have a nice day!"

He walks into the tunnel towards the loading gates just as she collapses.

* * *

...

* * *

Thane Krios freely admits that he is focused. Not dead.

Despite his nature, despite his habit to appear disinterested in matters of material and flesh, he will freely admit that the sound of the shower and the sight of clothes piled up outside the bathroom give him a sense of...not thrill, but possibly _curiosity._ It has been many years since he has been _curious_ about the fairer sex.

And despite the insistence that the Asari are _not_ women, _that_ part of him cares not for such pedantry. Justicar Samara is most _definitely_ a woman.

His apartment is sparse. But, she was not articulate enough to offer an alternate destination. Hence, he brought her to his bare, two room apartment. There is a chair he uses, to sit at his terminal, and a mat he uses to meditate. A bed, as well. Everything is basic.

Sitting on the mat, he crosses his legs and closes his eyes. Dives into memories. Earlier times, happier times. Laughter, songs. Dancing.

Then a coughing. Vomiting. It takes a moment to realize that it is not a memory. Black eyes open, and he hears the retching from the bathroom.

And then he feels it. The faint vibration along the floor, along the walls. "Odd," he rasps. "I thought tremors were rare, here."

* * *

...

* * *

She lands in a crouch, hard enough to crack cement. Red hair whips behind her as the disc glows upon her brow, and green eyes peer through the dust and smoke. Standing on the rooftop she landed on, Jane Shepard takes careful steps forward.

And then a nearby skycab glows blue and flies at her. Hearing the scream of metal on concrete, she turns. A flash of her hand and the cab splits in two. Running through the explosion, she feels the electricity in the air as tables, boxes, individual bricks all rise and begin to pelt her.

She punches them out of the air as they come within range. Her fists and feet become blurs, bare knuckles and high heels shattering and deflecting. At least, she thinks, until she spots the truck roaring down upon her.

* * *

...

* * *

"I mean, c'mon man." The broad shouldered, thick necked man slaps his friend on the back, "Go over there. Talk to her."

Next to him, the turian shrugs, glancing over to the quarian girl on the other end of the lounge. "I don't know, James." Mandibles twitch. His fingers curl. "I mean, am I being too forward? Am I, you know, trying too hard?"

The human snorts, rolling his eyes. Leaning his massive frame on the bar, he downs his drink with a laugh. "Maaaaan she practically showed off her nerve stim in front of you. What're you expecting? Hot girls to fall out of the sky?"

Which is when the ceiling collapses and Jane Shepard hits the dance floor. The music stops. Climbing to her feet, she rolls her neck and smooths out her dress. "Round two, _bitch."_ Pumping her knees, she shoots through the hole in the ceiling.

James shrugs, rubs the back of his neck, and pats the turian on the back. "'Kay, maybe they do. You should still talk to her."

* * *

...

* * *

A Geth Prime is a war machine. Standing three meters tall, it hammers it opposition with pulse lasers, missiles and drones. Its hardware allows it to direct small armies of Heretic platforms into a cohesive unit. With a triangle configuration of red eyes, it charges at the front.

As such, it is also the first to be vaporized by the blast of golden light, sending the Heretics into disarray.

"_Yes! YES!"_ Stomping forward, the golden giant laughs as it emits beams from its facet eyes. "_So many things can be solved with violence!"_

A sweep of the golden beam severs the heads of a line of Geth. Another sweep vaporizes them. Laughing, the giant wades through the field while the sole passenger fires into the army with her shotgun. "New flank, on the right," Tali yells, "Missiles incoming!"

The missiles explode in the air, before even reaching an arms length of the golden giant. "_Imbeciles! Ignorants! Hubris to such degrees that it is baffling!"_ The giant extends a hand towards the advancing wall of rocket troopers. "_You seek to fell me with technology? You seek to fell me with machines?_"

A sphere of crackling white lightning forms on his palm. Extending his other hand outward, a second sphere appears. The air ionizes, crackling and moaning with the power searing through it. The sky turns dim and dark in comparison to the glow off the golden giant as Tali's own face mask goes opaque.

"_I am technology! I am invention! I am the God of the Machine! I!"_ The spheres disappear. "_AM!"_ The sky turns black as pitch. "_**AUTOCHTHON!"**_ And the ground erupts with lightning. The Geth surrounding him seize up, shrieking in binary as pillars of maroon electricity burst into the air. The air sparks and burns, a solid dome of plasma surrounding them but not touching him or Tali.

As the air clears and the last charred Heretic collapses to the ground, her visor turns transparent once again. "What was that?" she asks. She notices her voice carries no fear. Perhaps she isn't afraid of him.

"_Lightning Kraken. It's sorcery,"_ he explains, heavy footsteps marking their passing as they advance towards the sounds of gunfire, "_I would offer to teach you, but such knowledge requires great sacrifice."_

She nods, cocking her shotgun. "Fine. Let's go find that Reaper."

A throaty, amused chuckle. "_Yes. Oh yes. I must thank you, Tali, for inspiring me to take the field like this."_ A golden hand clenches into a fist. "_Because I think this is going to be the best day of my **life."**_

* * *

...

* * *

Two toed feet skid to a stop amid the smashed out remains of an ancient ship. The synthetic minds working with his pointed him to here as the spot it crashed. He can hear it, _taste_ it. The power here. The horror. Ground shakes as dozens of Heretic platforms impact, single eyes glowing as they rise and bring up their weapons.

And then the ship shatters as a pillar of blood rises into the sky. Not blood, just...light, with the texture and thickness of blood. A pillar of sickness, of insanity that surrounds the three armed figure. Its triangular eyes glow and the light gathers around its hands.

Terminal moves quickly. Kal moves quicker, sidestepping the blast of force, ducking under a second, cartwheeling around a third.

"**You. Deal with. Forces you do not un. Derstand."**

"And look at all the fucks I give," Kal'Reegar responds, holding his rifle in one hand, "I'm not afraid of you." Knuckles crack on his free hand. "And when I'm done, no one else will be, either."

The ground shakes with every step. The Heretics raise their weapons, following their god. "**You. Will die. Then all your soldiers. All your. Fleet. All your. Race."**

There is an audible crack as Kal cranes his neck. A brief blue glow along the lines of his gun. "I thought the Reapers were supposed to be above us 'mere' organics. But now? I see you're too fucking stupid to realize how badly you underestimate us." Raising the gun above the synthetics, he fires. As the bullet becomes a light as bright as the sun and the Heretics are blinded, there is only a single, deafening shout.

"_Keelah'selai!"_ Battle joined.


	14. The Chosen of Journeys

It watches. It watches, through the relay networks. Through the backdoors of technology throughout the entire System. It watches from the back of the minds of the Geth, through the VIs, through the AIs who are unaware of the true root of their existence.

The Catalyst watches. There is a small smile on his face as he watches; Shepard fighting the Ardat Yakshi on Illium. Autochthon, the Maker's shadow, taking to the field of battle.

The mortal fighting Terminal, the warlord so terrifying that they let him keep his title when he was ascended.

"**You can feel it, can you not?"** He cocks his head to the side. He sees the hint of red out of the corner of his vision, feels the emerald eyes upon him. "**Nazara was not prepared. These organics have spread against the stars with unexpected, desperate violence."**

The delicate hand wraps around one of his fingers. The form shifts, her eyes meeting his. Such age in her eyes. Such longevity, that even they in their quest for eternity could not match. "**There was no Glorious Emperor to unite them. There was no Great Ambassador to calm them. There was no Masterful General to conquer them."**

"The Protheans locked away the Exaltations," he confirms. But she shakes her head. Strands of red fall about her face. And idealized beauty from far away. Something else from up close.

"**So this cycle is fragmented. Multilateral. It is life, uncorrupted and unconquered by the great Plan, birthed by the Viator, Bright Star and myself. It is natural and evolved."** Her form flickers. Like she was never there. "**And now, more united against us. Do you feel it, Leaping Sky?"**

He starts. So long it has been since he heard the name he held when he was flesh. "I do. Like an old friend, returning from a long journey."

The red haired woman- less a woman, only a woman from a distance, gives him a small smiles. A quirk of her lips unseen for entire turns of the galaxy. "**Yes. How appropriate a term. So long it has been, serving these masters. But perhaps you need one who embodies freedom to know what you have truly missed."**

The hand caresses his face. Even in the realm digital, even within the realm separated from matter, she calms and enlightens him. Like she always has, always will. "**Time was your ally. And now, it has finally abandoned you. Your Circle did great things when you were united."**

She flickers. Some part of him wishes her to stay, but knows he holds no power over her. "**Now ask yourself, what will that same Circle do, when united against you?"**

And she is gone. And the Catalyst turns, to watch the unfolding events, fresh doubt sown in his heart.

* * *

**Chapter 14:**

**The Chosen of Journeys**

* * *

Jenny Shepard stares at the disassembled armor. Each part categorized, labeled, tested and identified. In the mind of the genius, albeit the damaged genius, the clues come together. A child of both pop culture junkies and military technology experts, she realizes exactly what it is she has here.

And hence, Jenny Shepard clasps her hands together and squeals in delight.

"Pria?" The holographic head appears above the armor. "Chart me up a blueprint so I can make more of this. Then I need to mod this and get this to Jane!"

* * *

...

* * *

They advance. Through the smoke, through the dust, they switch their imaging systems to infrared and penetrative sonar. In the end, they see the silhouette shortly before they see the muzzle flash of his rifle. One of the Geth takes a round to the chest.

It staggers. The eye flickers as the programs within the platform evacuate. "_Downloaded Enlightened Geth to abandoned platform."_ And then its eye glows and it turns, opening fire on its comrades.

He moves between the platforms. Some fall to rise again. Some remain down. Arms pumping, legs carrying him through the melee and smoke, Kal'Reegar charges the Reaper directing them. Blasts of white pass by him as he moves by instinct.

As the one person assault becomes a pitched battle, between the legion of Enlightened Geth and the Heretics, Kal charges at the Reaper. Through the smoke and the ash, he can see the triangular red eyes of the beast, the creature commanding his enemies. The monster which directs this war.

Diving to the side, he rolls behind cover as a blast of white destroys dozens of Heretics and Geth. Springing up, running alongside the wall, Kal fires. Some bullets stop at the invisible shield surrounding Terminal. Some penetrate and hit cancerous flesh, sending black spraying but not slowing the creature down.

Vaulting the ruins, he fires as he runs. Wuffles warns him of the danger of this approach, but Kal says nothing. Holding the rifle in one hand, he reaches down and grips the handle on the back of his belt. Crossing the distance, charging the Reaper, he pulls and releases the handle. And smiles, as Wuffles finally gets the hint.

"_Downloading Enlightened Geth into knife motor." _The edge of the knife glows blue, humming as the power source of the combat knife kicks to life faster, stronger than it ever has before.

And blasting one Heretic in the face, Kal'Reegar climbs over it as it falls over, leaping off of it, and buries the knife in Terminal's extended arm.

* * *

...

* * *

Something moves. Yellow pupils contract, and six legs carry it along, through the high weeds near the lakeshore. Motion, movement. Something disturbing the heat and air around it.

Many more move. The insect it was stalking flies into the ground and is forgotten. Hunger forgotten, survival forgotten. In the primitive brain of the little brown thing that scampers along the weeds, there is only the warning siren of _wrong._

The millions, billions skitter along the earthen floor. When the ground shakes, they look up with shifting eyes. Insects fall from the sky, littering the weeds with a feast of which they do not care for. Instead, the six legged creatures, the highest form of life on this young world, climb to the top of the weed canopy.

And they listen to the sound of the terrible horn as the first of the black giants descends upon them. Eyes of blood and sapphire run over their lands. A voice which speaks from beyond their existence shakes the ground beneath their feet and the bones beneath their skin.

"**Begin the Ritual."**

With a blast of the horn, red beams of light lance from the extended tentacles of the black giants. They burn the weeds, burn the life, burn the soil. The world begins to burn, cracked open and exposed to the Reapers. And the three dozen in orbit, least of the great fleet, descend upon this world to begin their work.

* * *

...

* * *

The blast sends him flying. Flipping through the air, mass effect fields and raw, pure power lets him control his tumble. Spinning through the air, he folds into a ball, thrusts out his legs, and drags himself to a stop. Kal stands and sees the tracks his feet have left in the cement.

"Sweet." Craning his neck, he looks at the melted chunk of metal that was his gun. "Wasn't doing anything anyway. Wuffles?"

There is a crackle of static and a stuttering squeak. "_We are present, Creator Kal'Reegar. New hypothesis: Ballistic weaponry is insufficient to penetrate the defenses of the Old Machine avatar. We can direct greater force against the avatar through direct melee."_

"Meaning I should be punching him?"

A pause on the other end. "_Affirmative."_

Grinning underneath his helmet, Kal cracks his knuckles. "My kind of plan."

He takes off in a run. The sounds of gunfire and explosions becomes just so much percussion around him. Bullets whizz past him. Rockets explode to his sides. Geth fight Heretics around him, but he goes through them, past them, as the black giant turns and focuses its gaze upon him.

The arm swings, Kal's knife still embedded to the hilt. He ducks under, sliding underneath the monster's reach and slamming his fist into where the kidneys would be on a quarian.

A second punch, third punch. He can feel hardened metal and flesh compacting under his knuckles, but the creature doesn't pause, doesn't move. Instead, it swings its fist at him, leading with the wrist instead of the shoulder. Kal ducks, lets it swing wide, and slams his fist into the chest.

There is a flash of blue. The chest compressed and the Reaper stumbles back, eyes leveled with Kal's own.

"**Oh.** **Ver. Y impressive."** The neck of the reaper stretches and cracks. "**Killing synthetics. Any organic with a gun and a grudge can manage such."** Stomping towards Kal, the damage to the chest evens out. "**You. Are but a distraction."**

The arm swings far faster than it should. He only sees it because of the glint of light off the knife blade. Bringing up both arms to block, he feels the bones in his forearms crack, feels the skin bruise.

Grabbing the knife, he lets momentum do the rest and watches as the arm falls off. But there is a shift of something on the skin of Terminal, and the other arm rotates to the stumps place.

The arm swings. It moves faster than something that size should, and Kal to his credit doesn't scream as his left arm breaks in three places. The blow sends him stumbling to the side, and for a moment he can see the wheel of interlocking arms backlighting the Reaper as it reaches for him.

Kal's broken arm swings, cracking metal. His arms become a blur, the impacts lifting Terminal off its feet momentarily before a heel comes down on Kal's knee. Kal bites back the cry as the hand wraps around his neck and lifts him up.

And then there are screams. Not human screams, but high pitched squawks and shrieks. Around him, Geth, Enlightened Geth, pitch forward and collapse. "_Creator Kal'Reegar! Reaper is consuming Enlightened Geth!"_

Grunting, Kal kicks the arm. He feels bones crack, but the wrist starts to give. _"Geth population in suit at two nine one three. Two nine one one. Two eight nine four. Warning! Reaper is consuming Enlightened Geth! Warning!"_

"I...hear...you!"

"**Careless. Failure."** The hand tightens around Kal's neck. His windpipe closes. "**Look. At you. Broken and gasping. It would be mercy to end you. But you have not earned mercy."**

A flash of light, and a blast of force impacts Terminal. It looks up, its shields flaring at the massive form of Chikktika Vas Paus looms over him, blast after blast hammering the invisible barrier. Disinterested, it drops Kal and gestures, sending him flying and into the nearby wall.

"**Pathetic. Simple modification. But you cannot destroy us with such trivialties."** A gesture, and the giant robot freezes, lifted into the air as Adienna panics and screams through the speakers. "**What. Was this meant to accomplish?"**

"A distraction."

Terminal glances up to the top of the wall and meet's Tali's eyes. And then the wall shatters, and the golden fist slams into Terminal's face as Autochthon tackles him.

* * *

...

* * *

The golden giant tackles the Reaper at the midsection, carrying them both across the battlefield and through the lines of Heretic and Enlightened Geth. The only sound louder than the gunfire and explosions is the enraged roar of the blacksmith god.

They are carried through the battlefield by momentum. And rage. The Reaper is slammed through scenery, through walls, through the armies of synthetics. White light blasts the face of the god. It washes off the magical metal and the facet eyes, and there is a primal roar as Autochthon's fist slams into the Reaper's face.

The wrist folds out as it impacts. Blades spin up, and Terminal gets a good look at the full sized turbine before it sends it across the battlefield.

The flight is stopped when the Reaper slams into a standing wall of an ancient building. Landing on its feet, the building collapses behind it. Looking down, it pulls the golden disc from its chest and tosses it into a wall of charging Geth.

The explosion backlighting it, the Reaper advances, red eyes glowing. "**So. You finally cease hiding, Maker."** Light gathers on the palms of the Reaper. "**So pathetic. So wasted. The Viator must have offered you the choice to join us."**

Throwing both arms out, he lets loose the wall of force. It hits Autochthon, burning and melting the ground around him, but the Maker simply walks through it, faceted eyes glowing. "_Yes. He did."_ The glass underneath his feet cracks. "_And just like you will! And the next one!" _Vents open on the shoulders. Spheres of lightning form around him, pressing against the blast. "_And the next one! And the next one! Because a sickness wants nothing more than to come back home!"_

* * *

...

* * *

Watching from the shelter of the ruins, Kal blinks and stares at the lightshow. "Is he always like that?"

"No," Tali responds, "He just usually has a lot of repressed anger."

"And now?"

"He's not repressed anymore."

* * *

...

* * *

The walls of lightning and the wall of white fire grind the world beneath them. Geth short out around them, Heretics and Enlightened due to the sheer power thrown around. "**You. Do not commit. Lightly. The Viator gives us memories of you, Maker."** Red eyes glow. "**You. Do not act. Out of rage. You act."**

One eye telescopes. Essence charted across the world. It filters out the Geth. Filters out the mortals. Focuses on one who has been touched by the Essence of Autochthon. "**With a plan." **Lines of red run up its arm. "**Enabling Conduit."**

* * *

...

* * *

Looking down, Tali feels the electricity in the air before she sees it. Lines of blue lining the ground around her and Reegar, rising into spikes of black metal around them. Underneath them, something spins up, formed from the earth. The sensors in her helmet confirm what it is for her before she says it.

"Oh keelah it's a _mass relay!"_

Sensors go wild. Paths charted, possible locations, probably situations. What she doesn't see, though, is the hand that grabs her by the arm and hurls her from the circle. Turning in mid flight, Tali's eyes meet Kal's the moment before the air around him crackles and he disappears.

* * *

...

* * *

Blinking, Kal's eyes open and he finds himself staring at a field of blue. New numbers come up on his helmet. Windspeed. Altitude. Velocity. "Ah crap."

"_Creator Kal'Reegar, the Reaper has opened up a one way Mass Relay beneath you. We are currently fifteen kilometers above our previous position and descending rapidly."_ Numbers tick down. He guesses that those would be how far he is from the ground. "_Creator Kal'Reegar, we propose a method to ensure survival."_

"Listening, Wuffles."

A pause on the other end. "_We wish to give Creator Kal'Reegar enlightenment."_

He flattens himself, spreading out his arms and legs. "I'm open to ideas, but how does that work?"

"_We will relay memories we downloaded from Harbinger. Viewing these memories Enlightened the Geth. We believe a similar viewing of these memories will Enlighten Creator Kal'Reegar."_

A momentary pause. Kal looks down, and sees the approaching ground. "Do it."

His helmet goes opaque. For a moment, he feels lighter, floating in the ether. The eyes of Kal'Reegar vas Rayya nar Idenna behold the light of the Sun. For he views the world through eyes not his own, memories not his own, and sees the golden light as it descends upon him. And like the Geth before him, Kal witnesses _perfection._

* * *

...

* * *

Memory 000001928

_He stands atop the highest mountain, letting the wind threaten to flay the flesh from his bones. His hair is coated with ice and his fingertips blue, but he does not falter. He does not stumble. Gripping rocks with bare, bleeding hands he rises to the top of the peak and looks over the North. He can see the great tusked mountain in the distance. He can see the great pillar of the Imperial Mountain __**Meru**__ and he can see_

_ He can see the sunlight._

_ But it is not just the sunlight breaking the cloud cover_

_ Or the warmth that hits his face_

_ But it is not just a sun. It is not just light._

_ It is _his_ sun._

_**Arise, my child.**_

_** For thy glory is at hand.**_

* * *

...

* * *

Memory 000002188

_The piers of the ruined harbor town pass in a blur. Vision tinted red with rage, he dives through the air towards the massive man, the gray beard hanging limply from the river god's chest and its eye still bloody from the crossbow bolt._

_ "This hand of mine glows with the **power of the sun! **You were given the chance to talk, surrender, or run and **you have chosen!"**_

_Rage, red and crimson. The golden fist burns through the air._

_ "**Heaven!"**_

_The eyes lock with the river god's own._

_ "**Thunder!"**_

_ He twists in mid air, putting his entire body behind the blow._

_ "**HAMMER!"**_

_ The golden gauntlet slams into the face of the river god, shattering his spiritual jaw as a watery foot stomps into a puddle, but to no avail. The rainstorm disperses with the blast, blowing outwards and away, shattering the remaining houses of the small town as the god's feet leave the ground._

* * *

_..._

* * *

_And then it is gone, flying into the distance and through the debris._

_Do you see it, yet? Do you hear?_

Memory -error-

_The hands cup his face, and he briefly stares into green eyes, red hair falling over her face as she smiles_

_ Don't forget. Remember. Focus on the voice._

* * *

...

* * *

Kal'Reegar opens his eyes. He can feel the wind rush by, from the tactile sensors in his suit. From the punctures in the seams. From the roar in his ears.

More memories flash by. More images in his eyes, more sounds in his ears. He doesn't consider his life as he falls to his death, because he is satisfied with where his life has taken him. But to consider the life of another man. Well, he thinks. Maybe he does have a _few_ regrets.

Faces flow by. Names. Places.

* * *

...

* * *

Memory 00081921

_They stare, even thought it is impolite, at the massive crystal pillar. It resonates and speaks in world shaking movements. The entire chamber, all around them, grinds out its words._

_** "Though you did not seek us out, you found us. And you have helped heal our world, and our maker,"**__ speaks the man in armor, laden with weapons._

_ "__**Through your actions,"**__ the mass of pipes and broken glass whispers, "__**The people of this world shall survive."**_

_**"You have brought beauty back to this world,"**__ the massive, gleaming metal figure says._

_**"And brought new wonders,"**__ the four armed, stunted craftsman continues._

_ "__**Through fire and steel,"**__ the robed man says._

_ "__**And ingenuity,"**__ the liquid figure adds._

_**"And through uniting the many factions of this world,"**__ the golden woman says._

_ "__**You have beaten the Void into remission,"**__ the skeletal figure finishes, "__**The faithful speak of you. Their prayers whisper your names, and so we have brought you down to here, Chosen of the Sun, of the Moon, and the Maidens. We are the Ministers."**_

_ And above them, the great sphere of crystal embedded in the pillar glows. It pulses first, then shines, illuminating the great chamber around the Circle and above the great and mighty gods of this world. And when it speaks, it speaks with the voice of shifting tectonics and lightning on the air._

_**And though you did not seek me out, you have come to my aid. And so, as the prayers of the faithful have carried your name, and the through your actions in curing my sickness, I have granted you this audience.**_

_** I am Autochthon.**_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Names._

_ Places._

_ A young man with red hair and gentle eyes, baring the symbol of the Dawn. "Leaping Sky, at your service," he said with a smile._

_ An old man with long white hair, the symbol of the Eclipse burning on his brow. He nods, says nothing. His name was thrown away when he ascended. He called himself something in a dead language._

_ Silver haired girl, face dotted with symbols in silver. "Liri, please," she said, "Let's leave a last name for some other time._

_ A young man with blue eyes and long hair. He smiled, but rarely said his name. He was always more concerned with the names of others._

_ A young woman with yellow eyes and always in some sort of traveller's clothes. "Mnemon Lilloss Urpa," she said, "Hello, Kal. It's good to finally meet you."_

Kal'Reegar's eyes open. The world around him freezes, even as the meters tick down. The entire scene, the entire world of the memory he sees replaying- freezes, save for the blonde girl who moves between the frozen forms of her compatriots.

"_I've waited,"_ she says, "_Waited so long."_ A small smile crosses her face. "_It took time, effort, and a lot of bodies, but it's finally come together."_ A tilt of her head. A smile on ruby lips. "_That and a good amount of magic, too. But you're here. And you're finally listening to me."_

Kal's throat contracts. Finally, he finds his voice. "The Hell is this?"

"_This is the plan,"_ she says, "_And you're part of it, too. But it's your choice, you see?"_ Her hand cups the side of his face. "_Because this is what it's about. It's about choice. It's about free will. You are one of those rare beings who's decisions will shake the heavens, redefine the worlds."_

"Plan?" He blinks. "I...don't know what you mean? What plan? I'm just a soldier-"

Her finger presses against his lips. "_You were. But you're more. A hero. A traveller. A wanderer and leader. And you will be more than that."_ Yellow eyes meet his. "_But if you choose. Because this destiny? Has not been chosen for you, but is one you will choose."_

A hand presses against his chest. "_There is a quest in your heart."_ The lips press against his forehead. "_And wanderlust in your soul. Now prepare yourself, Kal. Because your greatest journey __**is about to begin."**_

And high above, speeding towards the ground far below, the faceplate shatters.

Kal'Reegar vas Rayya nar Idenna takes his second breath.

* * *

...

* * *

Terminal looks up. **"What."**

Autochthon looks up, and laughs. "_Ah, yes, so that's where it went! I recognize my work!"_

* * *

...

* * *

He descends, picking up speed. The helmet begins to sheer off. Long black dreadlocks flap across his face. The wind roars around him, but there is silence. Save for the shadows moving, the words and faces and distant hints of memory.

**Awaken,** they say, **Cast off your fate, and take the one which is your boon.**

He can see outlines. He can discern voices. Of someone familiar, yet alien. Wisps of amber hair tracing the edges of his vision.

**Your journeys will be endless. Your feet shall tread on worlds no mortal man has ever seen. You will walk the breadth of the galaxy. You will travel to places of myth and legend.**

Amber eyes meet his own. A smile on her lips as the seals of his gloves release, as he feels such things as sickness and broken bones become health and hale.

**And though you may find your path without end,**

Bare hands feel wind rushing past. Scars and untreated wounds disappear.

**And though you may never find a place in which to rest,**

The helmet disintegrates. His face feels the warmth of a sun for the first time.

**This does not matter.**

Yellow eyes open and view the world for the first time. And upon his brow, an amber circle forms, framed by the sigil of Mercury.

**For you are Exalted.**

* * *

...

* * *

Terminal thrusts out a hand. The lance of white burns the air, roaring like a thunder crack, and hits Kal. Or, hits where he was, dispersing a cloud of white butterflies. The eyes of the Reaper glow, turning back towards the Maker as a single white butterfly floats past.

And then the Reaper reels backwards as the bare fist impacts on its face, caving in metal as Kal'Reegar _appears_ in front of him. Momentum carries the quarian through the air, bare chested, pale lavender skin glowing with newfound power.

Stumbling back, the Reaper brings its hands up and releases the blast. And it hits nothing.

Instead, it can only roar as Kal appears again, grabbing the Reaper's wrists and holding them apart.

"**Yield,"** the Reaper commands.

"Like _Hell,_" Kal growls.

Tali blinks, peaking out from behind Autochthon. "He's bare chested, fighting a Reaper hand to hand, and he keeps telling me he can't live up to his hype." She blinks again, and turns to Autochthon. "Well, don't just stand there!"

The Reaper fires point blank, but hits nothing. There is a flutter of white butterflies, but Kal's fist penetrates the stomach of the Reaper and comes out the other side. Kicking it back, the Exalt leaps and slams both feet into Terminal's chest and sends it stumbling back, looking up just as the blasts from the warstrider begin hammering its barriers once again.

Beams of golden and silver light join the conflagration, Autochthon's massive form braced against the wall and a wall of energy as tall and wide as him illuminating the battlefield. Kal only grins, holding Terminal's wrists apart and glaring into his eyes.

"How _dare_ you attack my men," he roars, "How _dare_ you _threaten my people!_" Gunfire as the rest of his men and the Enlightened Geth open fire. The Heretics, he can see, are frozen in place. So frozen by the sight of their God being _stalemated_ that they cannot bring themselves to fire.

"**You. Are an abberation."** The eyes of the Reaper glow brighter. The crimson disc glows upon its brow. "**We. Are eternal. You. Are outside fate. We. **_**Are**_** fate."**

"You're big and loud." Kal grins. "You're a synthetic boogieman story and a damned monster." The grin goes wider, showing teeth. "And we're not afraid of you anymore."

The red eyes glow brighter. The sphere around them, repelling everything around them, crackles with blood lightning and glasses the ground around them. "**You. Cannot. Harm. Us."**

Kal grips the wrists. "I can't." He twists, and levels the palms with Terminal's chest. A single phrase echoes in his mind. _Hollistic Bullet Methodology._ "_Bang."_

The beams of white fire, and Terminal screams as his own weapons shred into him, burning away the cancerous metal, burning away the sickness as the Reaper shrieks and bellows, realizing it _can_ still feel pain.

Kal disappears as the shields fail, and bullets, blasts of force and a wall of golden light tears into the creature. Heretic Geth seize up and collapse; the pain of their God forcing them to evacuate their platforms. Throughout the planet, the Heretics fall, leaving the planet and abandoning their god in haste.

As the light clears, the skeletal form still stands. One arm gone, the other reduced to a frame of burnt metal, it still stands and growls. Two eyes still glow, its hollowed out frame sustained by its own hate, by its own rage.

And then the head explodes.

Some distance away, a dirt crusted, half broken petal rises. Deft hands pop out the heat sink as they raise their single eye from the scope of the sniper rifle.

"_Target neutralized."_

* * *

...

* * *

Two hours, seventeen minutes, fifteen seconds. It took Miranda that long to kill every last security guard the son of a bitch had, and finally corner him in the control room. They're backlit by the blank blue screen, silhouetting them and keeping her from having a good shot, but she doesn't even bother with cover or avoidance.

Miranda Lawson levels her gun on her 'father.' If only he didn't have her sister as a shield.

"Hello, Daddy." She narrows her eyes. "I'm all grown up now. Aren't you proud?"

The gun presses against the side of the girl's head. Oriana Daniels, raised by the extended family of Gabby's. Miranda can scout talent. She can also scout trust, and she knows who she can trust her sister with. Eyes like Miranda's own are watery and filled with fear. But this is all new to her. She doesn't know the truth, like Miranda does.

"So, what did you do?" Miranda asks, "Did you show her the tanks filled with failed clones? The dissection tables where a dozen of my older sisters were taken apart to see what went _wrong?"_

"Back." Face hidden by shadows, severe and rigid where Miranda's is round and symmetrical, Henry Lawson presses the nozzle of the gun against the whimpering teenager, "You killed my guards? Fine, I'll hire new ones. You destroyed my labs? Fine, I'll build more. But this? This girl is _mine."_

She can't get a clear shot. If she fires, if she _hits,_ he's enough of a determined bastard to squeeze off a shot as he goes down and then this was all for _nothing._

"On the contrary, Mister Lawson, I will remind you that much of your fortune and resources came about due to your previous working arrangements with Cerberus."

The gun pulls, and Lawson yells out as his fingers snap and the gun flies out of his hand. It spins through the air, flies across the room, and floats in front of the figure that steps out of the shadows. Puffing the cigarette, he smiles. Hollow glass eyes filled with colorless flame regard Lawson as the gun rotates, before aiming itself at the him.

"An arrangement which, I regret to inform you, is now _terminated."_

Lawson pushes Oriana in front of him. Miranda yells out as the gun fires. But instead of hitting the human shield, the grain sized bullet _turns,_ curving around her. There is a sickening sound, of crunching bone and shredding meat as the side of Henry Lawson's neck explodes. Dropping Oriana, he stumbles to the side, and into the silk gloved hands grab him as he coughs blood.

Floating inches above the ground, her bare feet hovering above the floor but not touching it, the silk wrapped woman with horns twisting from the sides of her head regards Lawson with puzzlement, before turning to her master.

"Stanewald. Make an example out of him."

A smile crosses her face. "At once, Prince." And she places her hand on the wall, shattering it, before dragging Lawson out.

The screaming begins, quickly muted as a wall of stone takes the place of the hole. Miranda runs over, helping Oriana stand, eyes glancing at her face and moving her head from side to side to check for bruises, wounds. Oriana simply stares back, lip trembling and eyes watery.

"Miss Daniels, first I will assure you that your parents are both alive. Mister Lawson did not harm them when he abducted you from your school." He puffs the cigarette, dropping the gun to the floor. "The young woman who looks quite like you is your twin sister, Miranda. She was the one who made sure you were raised by a family, and not in a lab." He puffs the cigarette again, waiting for the two to turn to him. Miranda's eyes go wide in recognition.

"Miranda knows me well," he says, "I am Jack Harper, the Illusive Man."

Miranda opens and closes her mouth, the name on her tongue. "You...never told me your real name."

He smiles. Not the tight, controlled smile of a plan gone his way. "Let's just say I am reborn, Miss Lawson."

"_Indeed you are, my boy."_ The world turns black. Miranda and her sister disappear, and Harper finds himself staring into the gargantuan yellow eyes once more. They blink, disappear, and become Mister Sunshine, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and pats him on the chest.

"Yes. Yes, excellent," he says, "Reintroduction to your second. She looks rather useful, by the by, and I must say you have an excellent taste in women. But! Speaking of which." Yellow teeth shine in the smile. "Not sure I like how you handled it. Not enough failure, too much victory."

Harper opens his mouth to ask what Sunshine means, but fingers clamp down on his lips. "We can discuss that _later." _The smile grows wider. "But for now! I think you earned a little relaxation. Go out, have some fun." A black tongue licks yellow teeth. "You're still young! And single? _Tsk tsk._ Really should do something about that."

The darkness is gone, and Jack Harper opens his eyes to find himself standing in an elevator. He hears music; not turian or asari music, but music he recognizes from Earth. The doors open, and he almost stumbles into the bar. Looking around, he sees uniforms, suits, young and old people drinking and shouting and dancing.

Walking through the bar, he finds himself..._drawn..._towards the actual bar itself, towards the empty stool. Like tunnel vision, he muses. Not a lack of control, but an overabundance of focus. Leather shoes carry him along, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders pulled back. Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out a pair of reflective sunglasses and places them over his eyes.

Sitting on the stool, he turns. The first thing he notices is the red hair, pulled back into a careless ponytail underneath the military cap. She is a woman in uniform, service blues with captain's pips on her collar, the face of a woman who has managed to fight back age by sheer force of will and personality, and green eyes that have seen the galaxy from one end to the other.

And for some reason, Jack can't help but return the wide grin on her face as she meets his eyes. "Not often we get older gents here," she says, "You wander in to see if you could score with the new meat, or," she cocks an eyebrow at his suit, "You recruiting for mercs?"

"I think I might be here for other reasons," he says, grinning, "And there's a good chance, I think, that I could probably drink you under the table."

She grins. It is a grin filled with promise, and experience. "Either you're crazy or you can back that up."

"I assure you, I am both," he responds, and extends a hand, "Jack."

She grins wider. "Hannah."

And somewhere else, two taloned hands come together, fingers pressed by the long, shadowed snout, and the unseen master laughs with uncontainable glee.

* * *

...

* * *

Cold water has been circulating constantly. Her suit warns that she is constantly raising her skin temperature, and her pulse has been elevated for a concerning amount of time. This is because of combat stress. This is because they just blew up a Reaper and built a giant robot and stopped Autochthon from constantly being a _bosh'tet._

This has nothing to do with Reegar being bare chested and sexy. And half naked. And not getting an infection.

Because somehow, Kal'Reegar is walking around with his top half completely bare, punching marines in the chest and somehow curing their coughs and infections. She isn't sure how, but Wuffles said something which makes her whirl on it.

"They're what?"

Next to her, Wuffles raises his petals. "_The Geth are praying to Creator Kal'Reegar."_

She blinks. For a moment, she works her jaw. "_All_ the Geth? They're praying to Kal? Like a _god?"_

"_Incorrect. The Enlightened Geth in this sector are praying to Creator Kal'Reegar. We have discerned that Essence is directed towards an Essence wielder such as Kal'Reegar via prayer."_

Kal, sweat glistening on his bare chest, whacks a prone soldier on the chest. Wounds fade. His breathing returns to normal. Grabbing the marine by the wrist, he pulls him back to his feet. Tali clenches her fists. _Stupid sexy Reegar._

Next to her, the megascale Chiktikka Vas Paus lowers itself onto all fours, and Adienna rappels out of its midsection. "Aren't you fleet Quarians supposed to keep the encounter suit on at all times?" she asks, eyes wandering up the abs which could grate meat, "Not that I'm _complaining..."_

"I saw him first." Tali levels her gaze on Adienna. "Dibs."

Adienna folds her arms, smirking underneath her faceplate. "Well, I _am_ a native of Rannoch, can tell him _all_ about our homeworld, and I can take off my mask just like he can." Eyes narrow. "What's my incentive?"

"You get to pilot the giant robot."

Adienna levels a fist. "Deal." Tali nods, fist bumping the girl.

Tali snorts, walking towards Kal with Adienna. "Besides which, you have boys in the flotilla drooling over you." A sigh, as Kal sees them and stops. "Bad news. Our ship got hit. We need to find a way off this planet."

One of the fallen Colossi rolls off a building. They turn, seeing Autochthon as he jumps off and lands in front of them. "_Yes. Did you need a SHIP?"_

Tali taps her fingers. Adienne shifts from side to side. Wuffles simply stands completely still. And then around them, the Heretics stutter-speak and stand up. "_Downloading Enlightened Geth into abandoned platforms." _Petals rise. "_Geth inventoried Creator colony worlds following the Morning War. We believe we have located a suitable ship."_

* * *

...

* * *

Humming to himself, the salarian behind the counter taps his fingers playfully along the console, double checking inventory and emails at the same time. Marab, Employee of the Month for Sirta Foundation Division Four One Three Eight Branch Seven three, has plans. Big plans. Plans that involve him becoming _manager._ Or _district manager._

"Why hello thar!"

Plans that do not involve him being eaten by the _eighteen legged spider which has just vaulted his counter._

Stumbling back, he trips on a box, sending spanners and med gel over the floor, shrieking in abject horror as the massive arachnid climbs upon the counter while twitching its cat ears. "I'm Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay! And I was here to see if you could help me with a quandry!"

More shrieking, higher and higher pitched. "See, I was just walkin' around, mindin' mah own business, when I hear this argument about how some girl stole someone credit chit, but she says she never took it and it might be here!" More screaming. "Think you might have the credit chit of a volus?"

Shrieking, Marab points to the counter. The mandibles on the giant girl cat spider twitch, and she grabs it with one of her many many many arms. "K thanks bye!"

Skittering out of the store, she passes the crowds, the bars, and the arguing couples that populate these levels of the Citadel. No matter what they say about her appearance, Iri has a big heart. Both literally and figuratively. So, when she heard the plight of the girl, being harassed by the small round man and the dismissive officer, she had to help.

Coming to a stop next to quarian girl who does not flinch when seeing her, Iri waves the chit and hands it back to the volus. "Hey thar! Just came back from Sirta! You left it the counter!"

The squat alien takes a deep breath. It is moments like these, he would later realize, that hang on making the correct choice. He makes the wrong one. "_Well. She could have stolen it and left it at __the store!"_

"Alright, I'm going to make this case closed." The officer, a human which she can't tell apart from all the other humans, glares at the quarian girl. "Now get out of here before I take you in for vagrancy."

Iri's eyebrow twitches. "Okay. No." She glares at the volus first. She has a big heart. And like her heart, she sometimes finds a need to yank it out and bludgeon people with it.

_Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Deluxe Edition. Upgrading tactile sensation software. Increasing intensity levels. Scenario: Triumph of the Elcor. Intensity: Magnificent._

The volus' mouth glows, and he collapses onto his front. The officer turns from the volus to the spider cat, who twitches her mandibles and stares at him with eight puppy dog eyes. "Hey, so, I'm kinda offended by this. I mean, this girl didn't do a single thing wrong, but you insist on harassing her? As a concerned citizen, I'm a gonna have to ask you to leave her alone."

The officer turns from the collapsed, groaning volus to the spider. Any retort dies on his lips, his omnitool glowing again as Iri rubs her grippers together. "Uh." He taps his omnitool. "Yeah. No report. No crime happened here."

Iri's mandibles twitch. Turning, he walks away. As soon as he clears the crowd, he begins to run.

It is only then that the shoulders of the quarian girl untense and slump, and she almost collapses onto the floor before Iri catches her. "Hey hey," the spider cat says, leading her to a bench, "I'm kinda accessing your suit, and I can see that you're kinda running a fever and your blood sugar's low. You alright?"

Grippers wrap around the girl's hand as she sits. "I'm...I'm fine," she says, "I..." The glowing eyes behind the mask blink. "Yeah, it's...been a while since I ate. Few days. Usually go to the turian shelters and eat nutrient paste."

There are many flaws to Iri. Primary among them is her great, great compassion. "What's your name?"

"Lia'Vael," the quarian girl responds, "Uh. Lia'Vael nar Ulnay."

Iri's mandibles twitch. Half of her eyes close and her ears fold down. "Are you any good with tools?"

Lia nods. Her eyes go wide when Iri pulls her to her feet, leading her towards the transit stands. "Then congratulations, Lia! You're gonna be my new assistant!" As the spider and the quarian amble away to the sound of Iri's explanations, promises, and praisings, the volus lies on the floor. Groaning, he finally rolls onto his back, to stare into the gaze of the elcor standing over him.

"With barely contained disgust: Pervert."

* * *

...

* * *

The Geth lead them, through the ruins, through the wastes. No matter where they lead the quarians, Kal'Reegar knew the way. He could tell where they were going. He would not let them get lost, and it was he who lead them to the ship that waited for them.

They recognize the shape. The long shaft leading to the wide ring. The dual turret mounts and curved designs. The colors which matched the tell tall hues of their encounter suits. "_We have located and repaired this quarian frigate,"_ Wuffles explains, "_It is ready for lift off. We have downloaded Enlightened Geth into guidance and propulsion systems."_

Kal nods, turning to the marines. "You heard the man! Everyone get onboard!" He gestures towards the ones limping, towards the ones wounded. He saved as many as he could. Beat the infections out of them, but they're still the worse for wear. "Wounded onboard first! Get them to the acceleration booths and fasten everyone in for liftoff!"

Tali says nothing, helping the wounded and hurt onboard. Even the massive golden form of Auothchton helps, carrying a marine in each of his massive hands. As the ship lifts off, the overgroan vines that were its prison snapping from the acceleration, Kal stands on the bridge of the ship. He holds a new helmet underneath his arm, his encounter suit replaced with a black, silver piped suit which hugs his form well.

He stands along on the bridge, watching the planet shink, and turns as Wuffles walks onto the bridge.

"_Creator Kal'Reegar, we wish to inquire."_

Kal nods. "What about?"

The petals extend. One of them is still broken. "_You have become similar to Shepard Commander, but different. We have observed your abilities and compared them to Kasumi Goto, who is also similar but different to Shepard Commander."_

Looking down at the helmet- a helmet he has for cultural reasons, for comfort rather than necessity, he grins. "Something I was meant to be," he says, "More than I was. Guess your idea worked, didn't it?"

Wuffles rotates the iris of its light. "_We are unsure. Our plan was a gamble. Its consequences were neither known nor expected. We were not the cause of your change."_ Hands clench and unclench. "_We were desperate. We did not wish harm to come to Creator Kal'Reegar."_

He nods. "Well, it worked," he says, "None of my men would have survived if not for you. Even if it wasn't intentional." He shrugs, grinning. "I can't argue with the consequences." Reaching out, he lays a hand on the synthetic's shoulder. "Look, I don't toe the line the rest of the fleet does. I don't hate synthetics or think the Geth need to be wiped out. I mean, you helped me when I needed help. That puts you above a lot of people in my book, okay?"

The petals extend, then retract. "_Do you wish us to teach your the charms the Geth have developed, Creator Kal'Reegar?"_

Kal nods with a smile. "Sure. Could use all the help I can get, man."

Wuffles moves their head back and forth. A nod, a quiet imitation of the mannerisms of the Creator in front of them. "_Understood. We are altering the course of the ship. The Geth wish to accelerate timetable of Creator/Geth reconciliation."_

The ship banks. The starscape outside blurs and ripples as the ship makes a quick mass effect jump, accelerating to multiples of lightspeed before the stars and space return to normal. Turning to the viewport, Kal looks out to the growing specks of light in the distance. And then, he sees it. "Keelah," he whispers.

It is massive. Beyond massive. He can tell from the shapes and colors what it is, but it takes him a moment to understand it. To _believe_ it. From the triple rings at one end of the ship, to the curves and corners which compose its form. Engines glow, lights turning on over the length of the massive ship.

The steady pulses of light on its spine, he realizes, is from a massive mass accelerator. Thrusters lining its length means it is more maneuverable than something its size has a right to be. And the size, itself. The size means it is one thing.

_"It is a dreadnought,"_ Wuffles confirms, "_The Creators began construction of it 297 years ago. Construction was halted following the Morning War. Geth have completed construction following approval of plans to reunite with the Creators."_

Kal turns to Wuffles. The Geth tilts their head. "_We planned to deliver this as a gift to the Creators following reunion with the Creators. However, based on recent events, we believe we can trust them with it."_

"You can trust us?" Kal blinks. He turns from the ship back to Wuffles. "You can trust us to not attack you with us?"

"_We cannot be sure if we can trust the Creators. We do, however, explicitly trust Creator Tali'Zorah and Creator Kal'Reegar."_ The petals extend. "_We trust that you would prevent the Creator Fleet from attacking us. That is enough for us."_

Kal turns back to the ship, grinning from ear to ear. Wuffles stands next to him. "So," Kal says, "Does it have a name?"

"_The Geth have named it."_ Wuffles' iris opens fully. Their hands fold behind them. "_The Fahlsh nar Rannoch. In the Kerlish dialect of the western continent, it means Pride of Rannoch._" The head turns slightly, to Kal. "_And it is yours."_

* * *

...

* * *

The world, once verdant, is blackened and dead. Glass burns where there was once soil and lush forests. Red marks the grasslands. The deserts reflect the light, as clear and crystal as the now dry ocean beds were. Red lightning cracks in the sky above, as the great roar of the Reapers pass over the blasted remains of the life that once overflowed on this world.

There are mountains, now. Mountains sculpted by the old machines which encircle this world. Mountains fed by the ichor that was the life of this world.

Each mountain is spread equidistant. Each one surrounded by rivers of red. And each one, in time, glows red and begins to crack. Gigantic eggshells formed of dead elements. Fed by the nourishment of murdered gods.

The shell of death and desolation shatters, and shaking off the debris the six legged creature rises. Its black shell reflects the red light from the overhead machine gods. Bracing its legs, digging its claws into the ground, the newborn Destroyer flexes the long claws below its line of five eyes. Blue runs down the seems of its great swept body.

In time, does each of the destroyers hatch. Each, briefly, remembers the primitive life, primitive elementals, that it once was. And as the great minds of the Reapers press down upon them and educate them, does each rear back and blast a line of liquid metal into the sky in time with their bass roars.

Lines of crimson, as red as the blood of the world, bleed off into space. The thirty Reapers orbiting the world look down upon their newborns, and decide that it is good.

One of them glows gold. The one Reaper whom is superior to all of them makes his presence known. "**Prepare the Destroyers for combat."** Eyes narrow. There is something upon the voice of the Viator's firstborn, but none comment. "**Continue construction. Consume the system."**

As the light of the **Resplendent Harbinger of Ascension **fades from the Reaper's eyes, several of the Reapers descend upon the world. And some break off, towards the other seven worlds of this doomed system. All of them cracked and red, all of them in the throes of doom. Lines of red begin to bleed out from them as well.

Birth cries of newborn blasphemies.

And as the sun begins to shift red from the great black web that surrounds it, the Reapers obey. This system will be sacrificed for the greater ascension of the galaxy.

The Harvest has begun.


	15. Cast in the Vision of Terrible Glory

She exits the bathroom, clad only in a long towel which is _just_ long enough to not be indecent, while also still being not exactly decent. The slit of it runs up her thigh and all the way up to her waist, the top of the towel hiding her nipples but nothing above that. The water is still glistening off her skin, casting an ethereal glow off her as she stands in the doorway.

There is something...feral, about her. More than feral. Predatory. Like a great huntress which is in constant pursuit of something. Thane Krios is focused. He is not dead. Still, he is at least _polite._

"Your dress is on the couch," he breathes.

Samara nods, lips pursed as he rises. The floor shakes again, and he blinks, turning to the windows. "Odd," Thane breathes again, "Is Illium prone to tremors?"

In answer, the orange globe forms around Samara's hand, forming into an image of a familiar asari.

"_Justicar Samara,"_ Tela Vasir says, "_Priority sighting. Confirmation of aberrant biotic abilities. Ardat Yakshi located."_

The message ends. Samara looks up. "I need to get dressed."

* * *

...

* * *

She leaps, swings her leg out and kicks. The high heel pump, not her choice of footwear but foisted upon her by Liara, flies through the air point first. It hits the biotic field, breaks through the shield, and comes inches of Morinth's throat before she bobs out of the way with a swear.

The vampire growls, reaches up, and pulls down the ball of roiling blue light towards Jane. Jane just grins, leaps, and punches it. The ball of pure force explodes. It explodes in complete violation of the laws of biotics, of the laws of technology. This only pisses her off more.

"Stop doing that!" Morinth snarls, eyes a solid black. "Stop. _Not. Dying!"_

"Sorry sweetie, but you're not my type!" Jane Shepard runs leaps, and flies through the air towards the Ardat Yakshi. Memories come to her. _Containment organisms. Biotic weapons. Alpha Predators._ A yell, and she swings, fist colliding with the biotic barrier. A wave of gold slams into the wall of blue. The night of Illium becomes day.

"You weren't like this before I fed on you!" Morinth's eyes go wide. Both hands extended, she glows, a solid figure of raw power against the almost _effortless_ power this _human_ is directing towards her. "_What the Hell are you?"_

A blast of force sends Jane back to the roof. She doesn't hit the roof, she doesn't fall onto her back and roll up. She just _lands, effortlessly, _on her feet. Smiling, Jane grins as the disc of gold hovers on her forehead. As the ring of gold forms behind her, and she flexes her arms with an audible crack.

"Me?" She rolls her neck. She hears the words deep inside her, deep past her mind and all the way in her _soul._ "I'm **Commander Shepard.**" The world around her becomes a pillar of molten gold. Her voice becomes a thundering reverb, as if the voice of God from On High. "**And I am the Lawgiver."**

* * *

**Chapter 15:**

**Cast in the Vision of Terrible Glory**

* * *

Sneakers pad against the metal as she leaps out of the car before it comes to a stop. Her heavy coat swinging around her, holding the blue disc under her arm, Jenny Shepard runs through the hole in the apartment wall roof and straight into the still dazed Liara.

A ball of pink and blue tumble to the ground. Liara disentangles herself first, pinning Jenny to the ground by pure accident. The asari Matron and the young engineer stare at each other, looking down to see how Liara has instinctively mounted Jenny. They clear their throats. "Sorry," Jenny says, "Not the time or place."

"Agreed," Liara says, and climbs off Jenny, helping her up, "Right. Yes. Ardat Yakshi. Fighting Shepard."

"Demon of the Night Winds?" Jenny scratches of the back of her head. "I thought that was something made up for porn."

Liara turns to the girl. Jenny shrugs. "Sexy, biotically powerful, can't become pregnant and become more powerful with every person they do sexy things with." Jenny spins the disc in her hand. "I mean, tell me that doesn't sound like a fantasy."

Liara shakes her head, grabbing Jenny by the wrist and pulling her along. "There is no reason I should be the level headed person here." They run along, through the holes in the wall, through the broken debris and broken glass. "That disc? Shepard's armor?"

"Modified. Good stuff. We need to find her." The disc flashes, showing Pria's face. "At least, that's what the AI keeps insisting."

Liara sighs, rolling her eyes. "Really could use Wrex right now."

* * *

...

* * *

Relay travel is instantaneous. The distance and time that is involved in space travel is from traveling to the relays- and Illium's relay is in its system, meaning he arrived in a matter of hours. Urdnot Wrex steps off the shuttle, onto the platform, and grins. Reading behind him, he pulls out the shotgun, sliding in the thermal clip with a _click._

"Welp." He walks to the edge of the platform. He ignores the looks of the other passengers. Humans, mostly, going to help that colony he helped save the collective asses. Some asari who want to be green, too. Might be a fashion trend. "Down we go."

He grabs the edge of the metal ladder, the one marked by warning signs and how the companies aren't responsible for what happens if he climbs down these ladders. Holding his shotgun in one hand, gripping the outside of the pipes, Wrex laughs and slides down, feet tapping rungs to control his downward descent.

It takes minutes to reach the tree canopy. Minutes more to reach the decaying soil, filled with composed and shredded _something_ which fills his nostrils with stench. Still, as a child of Tuchanka, this is not the most offensive thing he's ever smelled.

Urdnot Wrex has come to the surface of Feros. It is an old place, untouched by civilization. In every direction, there is wilderness marked by the entombed metal of the spires. This was once the seat of something. This was once a world that belonged to the Protheans. So Wrex asks himself;

Why did the Protheans build the spires?

He feels it before he hears it. He listens to something in the distance.

Something which reminds him of a human animal he looked up on a lark when he was bored and had extranet access. Hagana. Heyana. No, wait.

"Hyena," he rumbles.

Something laughs in the distance. Something which makes trees bend, which makes the soil dry and rise into a cloud of debris which begins spinning towards it. Larger than him. Larger than the shuttle which carried him here. Larger than the Normandy.

Really big. And laughing. And tearing up the ground as it comes towards him.

"Ah crap."

And with that, Urdnot Wrex _runs._

* * *

...

* * *

The wave of blue and wave of gold collide. Eyes go black as Morinth swings her arms forward, sending rocks and glass towards Jane. Grinning, Jane runs. She kicks off, running alongside the wave of shards, skipping over rocks, and drives her foot into Morinth's stomach with a flying kick.

Morinth grunts, blue blood staining her teeth. Hands extend and a blue bubble surrounds Jane. She hangs in the air, swears, and is then driven straight down, into the roof and out through the windows three floors down.

The bubble pops, and Jane swings around, digging her heel into the ground. Which, she realizes, is the windows on the side of the skyscraper. Which she is now standing perpendicular to. "Oh what the fuck is this," she mutters, "I'm _Spider-man?"_

She kicks off and runs vertically up the skyscraper. Morinth bursts through the glass sides of the opposite tower, bolts of blue blasting out the windows behind Jane before she kicks off and sends herself fist first into the Asari. Fists and knees impact. A sphere of blue bounces between the buildings. Curses and grunts fill the air, and then Jane is shot out with force.

She bounces off one building, cracking windows before falling flailing through the air.

Towards the ground, she realizes. A quick memory check makes her recall that the cities of Illium, such as Nos Astra, are build raised from the ground due to the high surface temperature of the planet itself. Meaning she has a _long_ way down.

"Oh for fuck's sake why can't I fly-"

Flapping her arms, Jane spreads out as she descends, picking up speed as she passes floor after floor of the towers and raised streets. Screaming, she begins to actively wonder what her bullshit magic powers do about terminal velocity and high altitude impacts. But, then again, she _is_ N7.

So she straights herself out, flattening herself into freefall position. Arms spread out, legs spread out, mentally going through anything she remembers doing that might slow her descent.

"_Shepard!"_ Engines roaring and diving towards the surface, the air car besides her opens and reveals Jenny at the wheel and Liara holding on for dear life.

Jenny swears, grabbing the disc from Liara's lap and hurling it out of the car. Liara reaches out, screaming almost as loudly as the engines and sending the disc spinning onto Jane's back before the car pulls up.

Black spreads over Jane's arms and legs. Blue metal folds out, covering her extremities, then her torso and shoulders. The air in front of her ionizes, and Pria's face appears.

"_Listen closely. You need to attune with the armor."_ Jane blinks. She opens her mouth to ask what Pria means. "_Quiet. Right now. Direct your essence downwards. Tell the armor your name. Tell it what you are. Think 'down' and think 'mine."_

Jane raises her eyebrows. Well, she thinks. It's not the stupidest thing she's done since she started glowing. "_Normally this takes twenty minutes. You have twenty seconds! Do it! Now!"_

And she does. Her breathing slows. The lines of her armor begin to flow with gold, lines of sunlight running over the chest, over the plates of the shoulders. She turns in mid air, straightening herself and picking up speed.

She hears it. Guttural at first. Then speaking in tongues. In tones of windchimes and rushing rivers. Of bubbling lava and thunders from on high. And she opens her eyes. Her bangs of red hair scrape along the ground. Blinking, she takes a deep breath. Plates of blue cover her face, cover her head. A single line of white parts the uniformity of her helm.

Shoulders flare out. Her gauntlets become bulkier. Plates flex along her sides, along her boots. Within, red light begins to glow.

As she rights herself, her feet hovering inches off the distant, cracked ground of Illium, she hears a voice that sounds like an old friend.

"_Air elemental channeled. Systems attuned, charged, and online. __**This Armor heeds the call of the Prince of the Earth.**__"_

Flame blasts from her boots and her gauntlets, and with a whoop of joy and surprise, Jane Shepard takes off like a rocket. Trailing smoke, trailing flame, she speeds up. Past traffic, past Jenny and Liara's car, into the skyline and directly towards the blue sphere that is her enemy.

"_Hey there, honey!"_ Jane bellows, "_I'm baaaaaaaack!"_

And fists first, she slams through the shields, through the biotic force waves, and feels Morinth's ribs crack as she sends them both into and through a tower.

* * *

...

* * *

Fear is like a fine dish. Best served in sparse portions, best cultivated. Best made special. Urdnot Wrex considers this as he runs through the forest floor. Grinning, grinding his teeth with a laugh, he glances to the sides as he sprints, hands on his shotgun and blasting debris and dead wood out of his way.

Laughing, chuckling, he turns and glances around him. It is around then that he considers the actual weaknesses of the Krogan. Krogans, he muses, are prey.

Twisting from side to side. He pumps the shotgun as he hears the laughing. Eyes dart on either side of his head. Grinning, lips parted and mouth pulled back, he considers something he rarely does. Which, when chased by a laughing mass of wind, is probably something he should do.

He feels his neck creak. He looks up. The black wind forms a face, looking at him with many, many eyes.

"Crap," he breathes.

Then, there is motion. The air around Wrex crackles and moves. There is a shout, and the wind screams, shaking as heavy footsteps send trees falling and moves the floor of the forest. A tree flies, parting the wind, and the creature shrieks before speeding off into the distance.

Wrex turns. There is light framing the forest floor. A great ring which surrounds the new arrival, framing its hunched back as it walks towards him, its hump and its long flowing robes. As the light dims, as the footsteps stop echoing, Wrex's eyes go wide as he meets the blue eyes of the krogan before him.

Shorter than him. Walking straighter, more upright than him, longer neck and thinner frame. Long white cords frame the krogan's head, pulled into two braids falling to the waist of the white robe, held together by black beads and tied rope belts.

"Well," the krogan says, "It has been many, many ages since I met another of us."

Wrex parts his mouth. He blinks, glances up and down. "You're krogan?" he asks.

The white haired krogan grins. Producing a walking stick in is hand, there is a laugh as the head of the staff whacks Wrex on the nose. "Indeed I am," the old krogan says, "Mm. Berserker, too. Odd." An eyebrow raises. An eyebrow, Wrex notes, that has a tuft of white hair. "Wouldn't think you would be able to keep your head and make it here."

A hop. Far more nimble than a krogan should be, the elder lands on a tree stump. Standing on one leg, holding the staff level, the mouth parts in a toothy grin.

"I am Golah." Eyes flash. Essence flows around. "Great Sage Equal of Heaven and Master of the Mantra of Betterment. And you, child, should come with _me."_

* * *

...

* * *

Boot jets flare as Jane carries them through the hotel, smashing through floors and glass fixtures. They leave debris and holes in their wake, and glass shards pelt Jane along the back from Morinth's own biotic sphere.

Acceleration ceases momentarily. Jane lets Morinth smash into the ceiling of the hotel room, gathering gold along her fist before punching the asari in the stomach and sending her through the far wall.

On the room's bed, underneath the framed picture of the naked krogan, a turian raises his cup. "Still not what I ordered, but it's got my attention."

Jane mutters a swear and flies through the hole, fists first and into a wall of crackling blue force before she's hit in the face by a flying bed. Grunting, she headbutts it and smashes it in two, carrying herself through the debris. Stepping through the cloud of broken bed frame, she leaps. Rockets on her elbow flare and she carries herself fist first into Morinth's shield.

The resulting blast clears the room. Walls and ceiling disintegrate, tossed into the air from the shockwave and revealing the open Illium sky. "Just fucking _die,"_ Morinth growls. She reaches through the shield, grabbing Jane by the throat, and swings her over her head to slam her face first into the floor.

A pulse of blue sends Jane flying across the room, dragging a trench in the floor where her head was planted. The asari roars. Anything not bolted down lifts off the ground. Windows shatter into sand. The air crackles with electricity as she gathers a bolt of pure force between her hands.

And then her hand explodes. The echo of the gunshot follows the eruption of blood and flesh as she screams, the bolt disappearing, the debris crashing to the ground.

She turns to the open window, just as the figure crosses the distance between the two towers, and a blue armored turian slams his fist into Morinth's face.

The turian removes the helmet as Shepard watches Morinth fly through the hole in the wall. As the black faceplate hits the ground, her eyes go wide. The plates around her head shift and retract, retreating into the collar, and she locks eyes with the blue irises of her sudden companion. "_Garrus?"_

Garrus Vakarian grins, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck. "Good to see you too, Shepard." His mandibles twitch, as the wall cracks and pulverizes, clouds of torn apart metal and cement rising into the air. "Goto mentioned that we're probably similar about now, except our powers come from different sources. I'll explain later."

The walls give way. Surrounded by a nimbus of blue light, Morinth rises into the air. Abandoned skycars, chunks of wall, panes of glass orbit her. "So," Jane says, "That's a problem."

Garrus grins. His mandibles twitch. "Not a big one, really. It's amazing what they keep on Omega. Did you know that in Upstation Sector, this guy had a Maw?"

* * *

...

* * *

There is a shriek. Bursting from the roof of the hotel, a Thresher Maw screams as it flies through the air, slamming into Morinth's shields as her eyes go wide and she yelps, holding back the tentacled beast with the sum total of her power.

Maws are wild beasts. Berserk worms which feed on pray in an orgy of violence. So it is natural that Morinth didn't understand why the beast held still while Shepard ran up its back and punched her in the face.

* * *

...

* * *

The asari goes flying. _Fuck,_ she thinks. That last punch hit harder than she thought. Now she has to chase her down again.

She gracefully twists, spins, and lands on her feet. The form of the Maw shimmers, shrinks, and becomes Garrus again, who rushes over to her. And there is a flash. Time slows for her, the run turning into stop motion. And there is a golden light behind Jane's eyes as the word echoes in her mind, over and over again until it a drum beat of pounding recollection.

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Lunar_

_ "-like a brother to me."_

_ She stares at her face in the mirror, a face her own. A finger traces on full, lush cheeks and ruby lips. She is a thousand years old and and has not aged a day. Turning, she smiles to her husband, and the man next to him-_

* * *

_"-has no idea how lucky he is."_

_ The ocean spray fills her lungs but she can't stop laughing, holding onto the black fin with both hands as the pirate fleet smashes to bits of wood and metal around them. A final dive into the ocean as she holds her breath, and there is a leap. The form of the great beast changes in mid jump, turning __back into a man as he catches her in flight._

_ Her arms wrap around his shoulders as they touch down. They are kissing before his feet touch the floor._

* * *

_"-I know, I felt him die. You did all you could. I'm leaving it to you. Build something better from it. Live."_

_ She turns the key as the door breaks down. Turns, facing the executioners, the soldiers they once trusted. They intend to kill her, to seize this city. But she will have none of that. She smiles, folding her hands behind her, and savors the looks on their faces as the city rocks with explosions._

_ And the water rushes in, and she takes her last breath, and-_

* * *

Jane's eyes snap open. Garrus grabs her wrist as she almost tumbles off the roof. "You okay?" he asks.

She nods. "Fine. Where'd Morinth go?"

* * *

...

* * *

Buffling the nail, he leans back on the easy chair. Glancing downwards, he notices the speck of dust on the leather shoe. The shadows shift, and the dust is gone, consumed. Tenting his fingers in front of his long mustache, Mister Sunshine begins softly whistling.

Which is when the windows explode and the glowing blue ball impacts on the floor in front of him. It rolls, flashes, and Morinth stands up from her kneeling position with a flare of her nostrils.

"Neat," he says.

She turns to him, nimbus of blue around her fist. "Who are you?" she demands.

"A fan," Sunshine says with a wide, toothy grin, "Oh, very nice. Betrayals all the way down." Black tongue licks pale lips. "Almost too good to be true. Betraying your family, betraying your society. And the small ones, too." The smile goes wider. "And you're _single,_ too."

She snarls, and lets loose a blast. The blast is wide, massive...and stops inches from Mister Sunshine before dissipating. "Temper, too. _Feisty._" He stands up, dusting off his suit. "And now the big man wants to talk with you. In the parlance of the tentacled bitch who believes itself top dog;"

**Assuming direct control.**

The man jerks. His feet rise an inch off the floor. Shadows fill his eyes and mouth as a third eye folds itself out on his forehead. With every breath, inky darkness exhales from his nose, tendrils reaching out from behind him one moment to be gone the rest. And Morinth, once fearless, once proud, realizes on a basic level what is before her.

**Hello, Mirala,** he says, mouth too wide, smile stretching off the corners of his face, **I've been watching you for some time.**

The glow retreats from her hands and eyes. Glass crunches under her feet as she steps back.

"What" She swallows, dry. "What are you?"

**I am the Ebon Dragon, Shadow of All Things and Imprisoned Architect of a Reality not dissimilar to yours.** The smile goes wider. **And I have an offer for **_**you.**_

* * *

...

* * *

Garrus fixes the helmet back onto his head. Popping open a compartment on his waist, he pulls out a small, dried cookie formed into a conch. Cracking it in his hand, he tosses it in front of him. "Wait," Shepard says, "Shouldn't we be chasing after-"

There is a rush of escaping air, and where there should be dried crumbs and maybe a bit of paper, there is now a bike. Well, not a bike. There are no wheels, simply two glowing blue pads making it hover off the roof, red vents along its frame to provide thrust, and the steady hum of a mass effect generator at its heart.

"The fuck," Shepard states.

"Got it off a drug lord on Omega," Garrus says, climbing onto the seat, "Decided to keep it for myself. I mean, considering the utter bullshit that we're both capable of, I almost think a skycar's too mundane."

The engine revs, the bike hovering off the ground. "Get on."

Jane rolls her eyes. Her helmet folds over her face again, and the jets ignite. "Keep up," she says, and blasts off. Underneath his helmet, Garrus grins and guns the engines, taking off in pursuit.

* * *

...

* * *

Glass cracks against her flat heels. Something is wrong about this thing, this being, Morinth thinks. No, everything. _Everything_ is wrong. Eyes should not open that wide. The edges of the mouth should not extend past the years. The air should not _warp_ around him like it was trying to _get away._

"You." She swallows, dry. "You know who I am? How do you know my name?"

**You cannot keep secrets from me, Mirala.** The voice is a sharp base and beautiful soprano at the same time. The voice speaks with legions, speaking as one. **I know all about you. Your betrayal of your mother. Of your sisters. Of so many others. Such a sweet symphony of backstabbing.**

He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing a spot of liquid black from the pulsing slit at the center of his forehead. **It brings a tear to my eye.**

He leans back, sitting in the same chair Mister Sunshine claimed. Hands tented in front of him, the shadows around him move. Tendrils probe out one moment and are gone the next, the light in the room moving as if to avoid him.

"You're here to trick me?" Electricity crackles along her arms, along her remaining hand. "To fight me? To bring me in?" She grins, lip stained with blue blood. "Stronger than you have tried."

The smile of the dragon only goes wider. **Oh, you are a **_**treat. **_Fingers tent in front of his face. Thumbs press together, shadows dancing around them. **I'm here to make you an offer. You're going to die, and the death of one as doomed as you I find...beautiful. And yet, unnecessary. I have an alternative.**

The hands part, and the shadows craft before them a ring. It is delicate, wound of fiber and metal and delicate beautiful jewelry. It twists and turns between them, the light playing off it to make it glitter. Make it sparkle. Make it burn.

Morinth's hand extends. Her remaining hand. Her left hand. Whether it was by her decision, or by his she does not know. She does not think. She knows only what the ring possesses, and what she always has sought.

_Power._

It slips upon her third finger. It tightens and digs deep, but does not draw blood. Instead, it digs deeper. She can feel it in her heart, in her mind. In her soul. Her eyes turn the purest black and her breath catches in her throat.

**And so ends the story of Morinth, before it can begin.** The three eyes narrow. **And so begins the Fate of Mirala. Queen of Hell. And Azure Bride of the Ebon Dragon.**

* * *

...

* * *

One would think, Jane muses, that they shouldn't be giving Morinth so much time to recover. On the other hand, she muses, N7 combat training doesn't really prepare her for being able to punch someone halfway across Nos Astra.

"That's the place," she says.

The tower approaches- and Jane whistles, looking at her heads up display. That last punch sent her a good seven and a half miles. She has to tone it down a bit- if she tried that on someone who wasn't a superpowered biotic, or a Reaper, that person would probably have to be identified by the stain on the wall.

God _damn,_ she thinks. She can punch people across cities.

_Who the fuck needs these powers in the first place?_

Her musing is cut short, however, as the windows explode. Every window on the tower shatters outwards, the entire tower shaking as _something_ happens inside it- some sort of massive displacement, broken glass pulverized to powder...

No, she thinks. No, that isn't powder. That's sand.

Silver sand which begins pouring out of every window of the tower. Overflowing, shot out through the mid levels with enough force to slam into skycars, send traffic into confusion and accidents, and abrade the sides of buildings.

Diving down, she acts on instinct, pushing cars out of the way of the geysers, moving floating wrecks out of traffic. It takes her a moment to realize what she did- how quickly she got distracted from pursuing this monster for a gut instinct- and she shoots back towards the roof to find the hoverbike already parked and Garrus standing in front of a room filled with silver dirt and rocks.

"The fuck is this," Shepard breathes, helmet folding back into her shoulders, "She was right here."

Garrus snorts. Kneeling, he slides his hand over the sands. "Moon dust," he says, "Something replaced everything in this building with moon rocks."

Shepard blinks. "Which moon?"

Garrus shrugs. "Don't know. I can find out." He stands up, rolling his shoulders. "Give me a few minutes, Shepard. I'll figure out what happened."

He opens his arms. His eyes go wide. And the caste mark flares on his forehead as he _perceives._ He walks onto the sand, glancing from side to side. Ears open to hear the sounds of falling sand. Through his boots, his toes feel how the grains filled the floor- up, not down. Like it exploded upwards, but then began to fall.

Garrus Vakarian listens to the world. The world speaks back.

Standing in the entrance of the sand filled penthouse, Shepard sighs, taps her forehead, and lets the light flow out from the caste mark on her forehead. It illuminates the room, giving light to her partner as he explores, expands and oh what the fuck, she thinks.

"How'd you become a hanar?"

"_I can take the shape of whatever I kill,"_ Garrus answers, voice distorted, musical.

"Why'd you kill a hanar?"

"_This one was a serial killer on Omega._" A cough. "_I know what you're thinking, but it's Omega. If any place was going to make a hanar serial killer, it was Omega."_

Jane shakes her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She turns back to the skyline, ear perked and hearing the whine of an approaching skycar. Following the red and black vehicle with her eyes, she breathes a sigh of relief as it passes. A sigh which catches in her throat as she turns and comes face to face with a silver velociraptor wearing a monocle.

"Again. The fuck?"

"Right" The creature honks, swishing its tail behind it. "I know what it looks like, but it's not a terran dinosaur. It's a Kakliosaur. Krogans used to ride them into battle." The thin, two fingered arm reaches up and adjusts the visor on its left eye. "It's useful. Better sense of smell and sight than my normal form."

"Can it open doors?" She folds her arms, cocking an eyebrow. Garrus nods. "Clever boy."

"Very funny," Garrus mutters, swishing his tail, "And yes, I get the reference."

He drags his snout along the sands, snorting out clouds of silver dust. "Interesting. This is not a random distribution. There is a pattern scratched up in the wall- almost like the something is trying to talk with us, as ridiculous as it sounds." The raptor raises its head with a honk. "Incoming skycar. I'm going to investigate deeper. Cover me."

Jane turns to the skyline, then back to the sands. The tail of the thresher maw disappears just as she mouths another statement that sums up her feelings on the shape shifting turian.

"Commander Shepard." Jane turns back, just as the asari steps out of the car and walks towards her. Tall, clad in red armor which apparently lacks a zipper. A face which is very, very familiar. "We have met before," the asari continues, "At the bar."

Jane blinks. "I drank you under the table."

The asari nods, rocking slightly on the heels which are somehow part of her armor. "Yes. I owe the bartender ten credits." She nods, slightly. "I am Samara. Justicar. I have been tracking your progress and have watched your battle with the Ardat Yakshi via the skycamera network in Nos Astra."

An eye peaks out of the sands. It catches sight of Samara, then darts back beneath the grains. Samara does not see it, however. She simply falls to one knee, hands clasped in front of her face.

"It is an honor to finally be able to greet you," she says, "Lawgiver."

* * *

...

* * *

The massive room is lined with red. It looks, from first glance, like leather. But it moves, pulses in time. Golah enters as the white ribbed curtains part, followed by Wrex. "Excuse me, but I rarely entertain guests," the Sage explains, "The occasional visitor, the occasional scholar. The Winds have been rather aggressive lately, and they usually devour visitors before I find them."

The sage rests on the walking staff, turning to the Battlemaster. "Are you thirsty? Let me get you something to drink."

The old krogan walks across the sinewy floor, leaning on the staff, past the foam like couches and bone white tables. Leaning the staff on the wall, the krogan grips the handles built into it and pulls. Cold air pours into the room, white light illuminating the shadows as a voice of mournful agony shakes the walls, begging for release. For oblivion.

"Later," Golah says, retrieving two crystal flasks, and closes the doors of the makeshift ice box.

Wrex simply stares, before sitting down on one of the wrinkled couches. It contours to his shape, shifting around him to better accommodate him. Wordlessly, he takes the offered flask and takes a deep pull, finding it refreshing. And strong.

"The occasional screams from my home keep away the Winds," Golah explains, leaning back on one of the couches, "They fear loud noises. And, the fight that my home gave me made quite a few." The lips part into a toothy smile. "It's also why I let it live. The occasional moan, shriek..."

A bell tolls. Reaching next to the couch, Golah rises, taking long strides across the open room. In one hand, the Sage produces a long pick, bone white and blood stained. With a single, smooth motion, the pick is driven to the hilt into the leathery wall. The room shakes and a shriek echoes. Nodding, Golah pounds the wall three times with a the back of the hand.

"There," the Sage says, removing the pick, "I am trying to install a pool. Last time, it turned cystic." Walking back with a shake of the head, the tongue clicks. "I am training my home to be obedient."

Collapsing back onto the couch, the Sage tents fingers in front of the face, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "Now. What can I do for you?"

Wrex taps his fingers on the armrest of the couch. His mind struggles, whirring. Some part of him realizes that he has finally met a Krogan who is _more_ Krogan than him.

"Well," he says, "Well. Yes." He blinks, glancing from side to side. "I've never met a Krogan like you, first off." He takes another sip of the strong liquid. "You said I was a berserker?"

Golah nods. "Yes. Which is why it impresses me that you found me." Hands folded, the Sage grins. "I would expect a Scholic, or messenger of some sort. Not a Berserker."

Wrex cocks an eyebrow. "Don't know what those are." He leans back, smirking. "I'm the only kinda Krogan you find, really," he rumbles, "And that gives me an idea just _how_ old the guy in front of me is."

A small laugh from the sage. "And gives an idea of how much Tuchanka has changed," Golah says, "Because you think I'm a _man." _Grinning, she leans forward, popping the staff up next to her. "I hear these words from you, hanging about you like a shroud. Clan. Genophage. Rebellions." Eyes narrow. Lips curl into a smirk. "Tell me, Wrex. It has been millennial times since I set foot on Mother Rock and communed with Mother Star. What has happened to our home?"

* * *

...

* * *

It was explained to her, in veiled half truths thousands of years old. That the Order of the Justicar was created by the Lawgiver, a traveller from Beyond who wore the Sun on his brow. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that made Jane ask herself a question.

_The memories- did they belong that thing? Were they his harem?_

"_Shepard. I can't find a single trace of Morinth."_ A pause, and she hears his mandibles click. "_Sorry. Yeah, also, changed back to normal. You can stop distracting the Justicar. I'll deal with her."_

Jane taps her ear, depressing the receiver. The silence, itself, speaks volumes. Garrus, at least, has the decency to cough.

_ "Question,"_ Garrus continues, "_Am I the only intolerably lethal person other than you who understands armor protects your precious organs?"_

"Don't you mean vital?"

"_Stopped caring about my heart and lungs after I lost them a few times. Hold up."_ She hears the grunts behind her, and hears Garrus climb out of the sand, coughing up balls of wet soil. Jane, on the other hand, rubs her nose while trying to avoid staring at the cleavage.

She muses on whether or not to tell Garrus about the _extensive_ clothing damage she has suffered since getting her shiny golden powers. She also muses on whether or not Wuffles will end up showing him pictures _anyway._

The corner of Shepard's vision lights up and her omnitool glows. It appears first as a blue line, then as a ball. Then the red line begins vibrating along the vertical center. "_Hello, Commander Shepard. The Normandy has just docked at Nos Astra spaceport."_

Jane blinks. "EDI?"

"_Refits and repairs have been completed,"_ the AI continues, "_Admiral Hackett has assigned the Normandy to a priority mission. I would suggest leaving for the Normandy as soon as you are able."_ A faint pulse along the hologram and the omnitool beeps. "_I have sent over a new crew manifest for your perusal."_

She steps aside, listening to Garrus as he begins explaining the details, the evidence, to Samara. Locations, markings on the walls, composition of the sand. Hopefully making _eye contact,_ too. And where did that come from, she asks herself. Tapping her omnitool, she brings up the list in front of her. Names, ranks, histories.

And then she sees the name of her new executive officer.

The resulting dust cloud from her take off makes both the Justicar and the turian cough, as Jane flies at speed through the Nos Astra night.

* * *

...

* * *

Shakily, Liara climbs out of the skycar, helped along by Jenny. "Sorry for the rough ride," the redhead explains, "Jane taught me how to drive."

"I." Liara swallows. "I thought Shepard didn't have a driver's license."

Jenny shrugs. "Didn't stop her."

The two walk along the rooftop. Liara stumbles, holding her head. Waving off Jenny, she shakes her head with a tired smile. "Sorry. Just a little drained from fighting the Ardat Yakshi. I just need to get over this vertigo." She smiles. "I'll be fine."

And then there is a burst of flame as Jane flies past in her armor. Liara is gone, carried off by Shepard, the roar of the boot jets- and Liara's shriek- echoing past.

Jenny waves. "I'll meet you there!"

* * *

...

* * *

The airlock doors slide open, releasing sterile air onto the roofless docking platform. Shrugging his shoulders back, Kaidan Alenko enters Nos Astra and glances to either side. He spots the security robots- LOKI mechs. A name which does not fill him with confidence. It is an acronym, of course, but he's been shot at by enough robots as is.

The hardsuit creaks as he walks. He feels the familiar weight of his pistol on his hip and the shotgun on the small of his back. Looking left, looking right, he scratching the back of his head. Tapping his left wrist, his omnitool appears, followed by the blue sphere.

"EDI, didn't you say Shepard was going to meet me here?"

"_That is correct, Lieutenant Commander Alenko. She will be there in roughly ten seconds."_

Kaidan shrugs. Then he hears the roar, hears the shriek. He looks up, briefly, before taking a step back, and his eyes go wide. The roar becomes deafening, and Kaidan taps his wrist. The crackle of charged kinetic barriers surround him the split second before the armored figure lands in a crouch, fist embedded into the ground.

Slowly rising up as lines of gold run up the blue armor, she extends her arms and catches Liara. The asari continues screaming, as she has for the past several minutes. Face a shade paler blue than usual, Liara simply squirms out of her grip and collapses to the floor. She shudders like a leaf in the breeze. An apt comparison, considering how she got there.

The helmet parts, and reveals Jane Shepard. Hands on her hips, golden disc on her forehead, she grins as Kaidan works his jaw and says his first word to her in almost a year.

"What."

* * *

...

* * *

The Normandy's elevator opens to reveal the massive doors of her quarters. Back on the old Normandy, her room was a bunk, a desk, and a toilet. Cerberus' upgrade was a loft bigger than a penthouse suite on the Presidium.

Her hand hovers over the green circle. It is now that Jane Shepard realizes that she has been away from the Normandy for several days. Several days where Autochthon and Iri were given free reign, and it makes her wonder one important question.

_Have they upgraded my quarters?_

Green eyes narrow. Ideas, thoughts come to mind. Her loft may have a lava floor now. The model spaceships she keeps on her desk may be armed and equipped with mass effect cores. Her door could lead to a pocket dimension where she is Moon-chosen Empress of the Galaxy.

Stepping back, she reaches out and presses the button with her finger. Air hisses, the doors open, and Jane opens her eyes to find her loft exactly as it was when she left it. "Oh thank God," she mutters, shoulders slumping. Shaking her head, Shepard stomps into her loft, hands on her back and stretching as she yawns.

Rolling her head to an audible crack, she kicks off her boots and works her jaw. She has a meeting in thirty minutes with her staff- Kaidan, the Salarian observer, the grunts she has onboard now, and whoever else she has because she stopped reading her roster when she realized Alenko was onboard.

"Wondering when you'd get here."

Shepard spins, sock clad feet failing to catch on the metal floor. She slips, she pitches through the air, and ends up standing on the corner of her table, balancing on her big toe.

Sitting on the couch, feet up on the table, he flicks his mandibles and grins. "Neat trick," Garrus says, "You learn how to fly without the armor yet, or do you need to get heat vision first?" He shrugs. "I just grow wings. Pain in the ass to put on armor, though. I was thinking of just going shirtless. Or maybe getting the tailor for that human with the white catsuit."

Jane narrows her eyes. Still standing on one toe, she folds her arms and glares at the turian. If he noticed, he doesn't show it. "What're you doing here?"

"Catching up," Garrus responds with a shrug, "Thought I'd come with you. I'm going to have to go back to Omega at some point, but I figure whatever you're doing right now involves saving the galaxy, and you'd need a shapeshifting horrible creature with a sniper rifle."

She hops off the table. "Probably, yeah," she says, walking over to the couch and slumping down. Tapping the bottom with her foot, it folds out into a minifridge and she pulls out a small bottle. "So, anything new? On Morinth?"

"Gone." Garrus shrugs. "No idea where she went, but we'll find her. I can find anything." He leans back. "I really can. I can look at a place and figure out things which no one else can. It's like my detective skills are super-turian, now."

She snorts, sipping her beer. "Prove it."

Garrus taps his nose. "Joker had sex in here."

And Jane chokes on her beer.

* * *

...

* * *

Thermos in one hand, he sips the coffee as he walks into the cockpit, passing the perky redhead- Chambers- as he does so. Joker hears the footsteps and turns, hands on his armrests and leaning back into the leather chair.

"So, XO of the new Normandy," Joker says with a grin, "How's it feel, _sir?"_

Kaidan shrugs. "Feels good." He sips his coffee. "So, you and her..." He angles his head towards the departing Kelly, already out of earshot. "You two..."

Joker nods. Then his face goes stone, glancing from side to side. "That's not against regs, is it?"

"As long as you're still as good a pilot, I'm okay with it." Kaidan sips the coffee again. "So, we have an unshackled AI on the ship. Shepard has...armor that flies. I'm...I'm still trying to understand _what_ the crew quarters are. What did I miss?"

"Also, spider mechanic."

Kaidan nods. "Yeah, the spider mechanic with the eighteen arms and the quarian girl." He taps the side of the thermos. "And the gigantic spider in the cargo hold." He taps his foot. "So what happened?"

Joker scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, that's a story. So-"

The lights dim. The ship rocks from side to side as sparks run along the corridor of the lead in to the cockpit. There is a flash of blue, followed by arcing lightning directly next to Kaidan. And with a flash of light, a golden sphere of spinning discs around a single eye appears.

"_YES! One directional Mass Relay experiment is a SUCCESS!"_

The eye of Autochthon turns to Joker, then to Kaidan. Then to the salarian which has enters the cockpit. Not missing a beat, the one horned salarian waves his omnitool over the floating orb. "Interesting. Unrecorded materials incorporated into a modified drone frame. Must ask. Artificial Intelligence?"

"_Sir!"_ The plates spin. "_I am no mere artificial intelligence! I am the Architect of Invention which admittedly has been downgraded to mere godhood!"_

"Odd behavior." Mordin Solus narrows an eye. "Yes. Theoretical intelligence transfer into an artificial medium. Not an AI, but instead a brain upload of a possible non-carbon based life form!"

"_Yes!"_ The eye hovers in front of the scientist. "_If I were based on any substance, it would be Essence!'_

"Essence." Mordin brings up his omnitool again. "Similar to theoretical atomic behavior. Yes! Quantum foam based sentience! This requires _experimentation!"_

"_Yes!" _Autochthon booms.

"Yes!" Mordin breathes.

_ "Yes!" _The god sphere bellows.

And in the pilot's seat, Joker goes pale. "Oh God," he whispers, "Now there's _two_ of them."

* * *

...

* * *

Garrus points to the desk, and the hastily rearranged ship models. "There." He points to the full wall fish tank. "There." He points to Shepard. She slides across the couch. "There. And there, too." Shepard stands up.

"Joker?"

"And the cute redhead," Garrus continues, and turns to Jane, "The new cute redhead. Not the present, cuter redhead."

She purses her lips. "Okay, _Wrex_ did that as well. What the Hell?"

His mandibles twitch. "No explanation, really. You just have a..." He shrugs. "Presence, now."

She folds her arms under her chest. "Well, I take up more space, at least." She levels a finger at Garrus, advancing on him. "Okay, so serious. What the Hell is happening? I'm glowing, and you start turning into _dinosaurs."_

The turian shrugs. He paces the table, hands folded behind him. "This is as new to me as it is to you." Shrugging, he extends a hand to her with a smirk. "Well, maybe newer. Because you seem to have adjusted to being a superhero pretty well. Not that you weren't when you single-handedly saved the galaxy from Saren."

A small smirk crosses her face, shaking her head. She steps forward, crosses the distance, and pulls Garrus into a hug. "Watch the squeeze," Garrus says with a chuckle, patting her on the back "I just had the armor fixed."

* * *

...

* * *

The elevator doors open, and Kaidan walks into the shuttle bay. Well, shuttle bay _floor._ One of the first modifications that the drydock engineers did was moving the armory. Originally located on the same floor as the Combat Deck, it was deemed a risk and all the ordinance was moved down to someplace it could be safely vented. Just in case.

He finds one of the two officers assigned to the armory bent over one of the benches, several disassembled rifles in front of him. Working quickly, efficiently, the rifles are checked, reassembled, and stowed. And then he notices Kaidan, stands up, and salutes.

"Commander Alenko, sir," Jacob says, heels clicked and salute perfect, "Lieutenant Jacob Taylor, reporting for duty, sir."

Kaidan returns the salute. Just as crisp, just as fast. "At ease, Lieutenant." He relaxes, just as Jacob does. "Welcome onto the Normandy." Kaidan glances at the bench, then back at Jacob. "You're...familiar with the ship?"

"Was on it during its maiden voyage, sir." Jacob smirks. "Glad the Alliance fixed this up. Wasn't exactly comfortable with all the big guns a hundred feet down from the cockpit."

Kaidan cocks an eyebrow. "Civilian design team?"

"Cerberus. Good at a lot of things." A shrug. "Ship layout isn't one of them."

Kaidan nods. "What happened, exactly?" He walks the shuttle bay. Jacob walks with him. "I keep hearing chatter about the entire organization disappearing. Back on the old Normandy, we kept finding Cerberus bases, but now the entire group's gone."

"Best I can tell? One of their science experiments killed all the scientists and took over Cerberus." Jacob shrugs again. "In all honesty, I never really worked with them, just with one of their specialists. Smart lady, but not a lot of common sense."

Kaidan smirks. "Sweet on her?"

Jacob rubs the back of his head. "Perils of the job, sir. I seem to be collecting them, and they all fall into the same category."

"That being?" The XO cracks a smile.

"Women who can make sure they never find the body."

Kaidan snickers, jamming his thumb to the elevator. "Bar. As the XO, first drink's on me. We can compare stories."

The elevator doors open. A duffle bag exits first, slamming to the ground and rolling to a stop. A grunt, and the giant who was carrying it-one handed- exits as well. "If I can just ask, how the _hell_ did they fit the third floor onto this ship?"

At first, Kaidan wonders if they already picked the Krogan crew member, because he certainly matches the required size. Tall, meaty, broad, he seems ill at ease in the inform blues. The sleeves are rolled up to the elbows to show off toned forearms. His collar is unbuttoned, to reveal plentiful tattoos. And the face is _young._ Inexperienced.

And it also goes completely pale when their eyes meet, before the kid clicks his heels together and salutes. "Commander Alenko, sir! Lieutenant Vega, reporting for duty as second Arms Master, sir!"

A crackle of lightning, and Autochthon appears next to the lieutenant. Bobbing up and down, the plates around the eye spin. "_Yes. YES. Short range teleportation via installed one-way mass relay is a SUCCESS. Now, I must figure out how to use this as a gun!"_

"Why a gun?" Vega asks.

The eye turns to him. "_It seems to be what everyone is asking for these days. Always needing more gun."_ The iris narrows. "_When did you get here?"_

"Jus' now." Vega rubs the back of his neck. "James Vega. Nice ta meet ya."

"_Yes."_ A flash of lightning and the blue tint of the mass effect, and Autochthon disappears. Jacob rubs the bridge of his nose. Kaidan purses his lips.

"So," James says, "What was _that?"_

* * *

...

* * *

The wall explodes outwards. A blur of motion, and the fragments of the wall become an archway, lined with japanese letters and framed by bamboo bracing. Sweeping in with her robe barely touching the floor, Kasumi Goto continues her mix of de-stressing and redecorating.

It is refreshing, she thinks. Her new mansion. Shepard has actually managed to atune with her armor. The Lunar is on the Normandy, and Pria is leaving her alone. Hands up, a picture of grace, the Sidereal thief hums a tune to herself as she half walks, half dances across the main sitting room.

She spots the blinking light on the computer. The computer, she remembers, that Wrex was using before he disappeared. Humming, whistling, she sashays across the room and lightly taps the button.

And then.

And then.

"Oh mother _fucker."_

And then she stares at the ancient, crudely made cave drawing. The art style is unmistakable. Ancient Krogan. Possibly millions of years old, possibly predating _everything_ else in Citadel space. But she sees it clearly;

The image of the great wyrm that is the Maw, of the monotone images of ancient krogans.

And of the very definitely _human_ woman with red hair.

* * *

...

* * *

The light clears. Stepping back, blinking, she looks down at her remade hands, her healed fingers. And the ebon band surrounding her left ring finger. Grinning, her eyes go black. The air around her warps, both with her newly boosted biotics and the darkness which dances at her thoughts. The room around her shifts; anything not nailed down or bolted rises and orbits about her.

**And releasing control.** Mister Sunshine works his jaw, landing on his feet. "And just in time," he muses, "Any longer, and I'm pretty sure we'd need a sponge."

He stands up straight, dusting off his coat. Morinth turns, holding up a glowing fist and narrowing her eyes. "Where are they?"

Sunshine smiles. "My dear, did you think that you were going to be given this power without conditions?" He sits down, tenting his hands. "Wherever you think you're going, you've already _left."_

The walls of the hotel peel down, folding off. The floors shake and collapse, and Morinth screams as she falls through the air, through the empty sky and towards the silver sands far below. At least, until the stars disappear from the sky and she finds herself standing on a floating platform of pure shadow.

It rises, fast. The shadows around her take definition. Shape. Texture, like great plates.

Or scales.

**Ah. My blushing bride.** The platform levels with a long shape made of darkness, floating beneath the stares and above the moon colored sands. The shadows part, to reveal an eye. They part again, to reveal great white and yellow teeth. Each tooth, she notes, is many times her size. The eye she could fit a ship inside. **I have been waiting so long to meet you, Mirala. My Maiden of Ecstacy.**

She takes a step back. The shadow spreads beneath her to keep her from falling. "Goddess," she chokes.

**No, Mirala. Think bigger.**

The stars glide above them. She turns, to find escape, release. But the shadows around her move higher, and higher, and she finds her feet stuck to the ground. Which she realizes is the paw of the great beast she is at the mercy of. **You have chosen wisely, Mirala. Countless subjects await the first Queen of Hell.**

"What are you?" she asks. She realizes her voice is trembling, and doesn't care. The eye pins her with a glance, the many pupils running along the yellow, oozing flesh.

**I am your new groom, my Maiden. And you are the first key to a prison I have spent an eternity in.**

The platform lowers. Her feet touch silver sands before she stumbles back, almost falling. She looks up to find the great shape receding into the distance- and the entourage singing in jubilation beneath it. **Now, my Queen, my Bride. I shall await you in Hell. Walk for five days, and you shall be there.**

Blinking, she stands and watches it leave. He left her here. Five days walk, he said? Looking down, she sees the satchel. Opening it, she finds supplies. Drinks, food, clothes. Cocking an eyebrow, she hefts it up and finds it surprisingly light. At very least, she muses, that was considerate-

"Did...did the ground just move?"

**Yes. It did.** A small chuckle between her ears as she turns. **I should mention, as well, I left you here for a reason. My sister is somewhat cross with you for taking the name of one of her favored Devas. I would suggest moving at a swift pace.**

The horizon shifts. Morinth sees the wall of flame, and the acid sea marching against it. And taking the advice of her new groom, she turns and begins to run.

* * *

...

* * *

The briefing room table retracts into the floor. Dedicated projectors hum as they come to life, displaying a holographic map of the galaxy. Zooming in, it displays the Exodus Cluster first, then the Utopia star with the five worlds orbiting it. Finally, it zooms in on the second world from the star;

Eden Prime. Time lapse plays. First the world wobbles, and the mass relay appears next to it, releasing the Collector vessel and two Reapers.

"Several days ago," Kaidan explains, "Eden Prime was attacked by the Reapers. This is a conclusive link between them and the Collectors. Shortly afterwards, the entire Utopia system went silent." Hands folded behind him, the XO of the Normandy looks past the hologram and to the assembled crew. "Orders from Admiral Hackett himself. The Normandy's stealth drive can get us past any sensors."

The hologram shifts again, displaying a schematic of the Normandy. The back of the third deck, for some reason, is opaque. "Iri's modifications to the Normandy's Stealth Drive should keep the Collectors from noticing us if they are still in system. Our mission is to get into Utopia, ascertain the situation, and act if necessary."

The hologram fades away and the table rises. Standing tall, shoulders rolled back, Kaidan looks across the assembled group; reading reactions, checking for nervousness or fear. Finding none, he nods. "Let's get to our stations. Normandy needs to be at full combat readiness before we arrive. Commander, Doctor Solus? Everyone else is dismissed."

The others file out, leaving the three remaining. Kaidan clears his throat, turning to Shepard. Managing to look her in the eyes. "Shepard, this is the observer that the Salarian Union has assigned to the Normandy. He's going to be helping us with the Reapers and the Collectors."

Mordin nods, turning to Shepard. "Mordin Solus, STG. Retired. Still have clearance." The salarian folds his hands behind him. "Appreciate taking time for the meeting. Understand has not been very long since you fought Ardat Yakshi. Wish it were here. Would want to study biotic effects."

Jane rubs the back of her neck, shifting from side to side. "Yeah, kind of lost mine." She coughs. "Doctor, how much of the situation are you aware of?" She gestures to her forehead. The disc glows, hovering over her brow. Kaidan blinks but says nothing. "This is-"

"Solar Exalted. Mythical figures in Prothean legends. Possibly connected to repeated exposure to Prothean Beacons." Mordin waves his omnitool in front of her. "Fascinating. May need to run tests. Will be in my lab."

Kaidan shrugs. "Still has clearance." The doors close as Mordin exits, and Jane rubs the bridge of her nose.

"Oh god," she mutters, "There's two of them."

Slowly, Jane turns to Kaidan, the two of them alone. She waits, folding her arms, the glow slowly fading from her forehead.

"You're looking...good." Kaidan coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I needed to talk to you about-"

"Liara told me."

"Oh thank god that's an awkward conversation I didn't want to have." Kaidan grins, nodding. "Anyway. We have time if you want to talk." The grin goes a little wider. "It's _good_ to see you again, Shepard. It was a relief to find out that you were alive."

She nods, smirking. "Hope the shiny superhero powers don't put you off."

He shrugs. "You kidding? My commanding officer's Power Girl." Jane tilts her head, blinking. "I've still gotta unpack my stuff in the XO's quarters. I'll be there if you need me."

And with that, Alenko exits. Jane looks down, reaches up, and squeezes. "Need a cape."

* * *

**...**

* * *

**Omake:**

Panting, she leaves footsteps in the sand as they cover up behind her. Ducking behind a rock, she hears the hissing in the air from the acid, _talking_ sea as it follows her, speaks to her, lectures her. Taking off in a dash, she hears the roar and the flame. Hears the _sand_ offering her deals, but she doesn't take them.

She's in deep enough as is. "Oh Goddess," she pants, running, barely ahead of her pursuer, "Why did he leave me out here? Why did he leave me like this?! _What sort of sadist is he?"_

* * *

...

* * *

The brass towers pass by. Reclining on the saddle, Mister Sunshine leans back as the giant, beautiful wasp carries him through the demon city. The shadow around him condenses, and the third eye opens upon his brow. It is time, he thinks. Time for _work._

"**When I was younger, just a lesser thing,**" he says, "**My lord noticed all the **_**fun**_** I'd bring. Like shooting humans with an Essence gun. I'd poison puppies, when I was done.**" A smile crosses his face. "**I'd find the Clay Man and I'd **_**bash**_** his head."**

The Agatae stops. Sliding off of it, the Dragon lands with nary a trip. On the sidewalk of the street in the Demon City, three Neomah wait, flanking him. "**And then my King would say..."**

The three demons pause. He nods. "What did He say?"

Walking into the building, the shadows flank him, consuming random First Circles. "**He said Dragon I think some day,"** he crosses a threshold. Screaming welcomes him. "**You'll find a way."** Hands press against a great double door. "**To make your natural tendencies pay."**

The doors part, revealing a great, low ceiling room. The Dragon enters, silence reins as the varied inhabitants of the Demon City look up, expectant. And then the Dragon strips off his jacket, revealing a coat of pure white.

"**~You'll be a Dentist!"** he sings, "**You have a talent for causing things PAIN!"**

The neomah next to him drops as his dancing motion connects with her face. "**You'll be a Dentist,"** he continues, prancing across the waiting room, "**People will pay to be inhumane!"** A crack as he carries the doll's head with him, exiting to the child's cries.

"**You're temperament's wrong for the priesthood."** Kicking the door open, he enters the examination room to the sound of the tied down orichalcum giant's struggles. "**And Kingship would suit you still LESS.**" Climbing on the mockup of Autochthon, he slams a knee into its gut. Reaching across the chair, he pulls a pair of pliers. The poor demon in the orichalcum costume stares at it, fear evident.

"**You'll be a den~tist.**" He clicks the pliers. He smiles. "**You'll be a **_**success."**_And he goes to work.


	16. The Dawn

Kaidan Alenko holds the duffle bag in one hand. It is all his possessions. A handful of framed pictures, a single set of off duty clothes, and several uniforms. Like any combat-rated officer, he keeps his armor, his weapons, his custom equipment down in the armory. The duffle he is holding is _everything_ he takes with him.

And the XO quarters on the Normandy SR-2 are at least twice the size of the Commander's quarters on the SR-1. He has no idea how he can fill this place up.

Dropping the duffle, he walks across the spacious quarters. Waving a hand in front of a green circle by the bed- by the _king sized bed-_ he confirms the presence of the walk in closet. Shaking his head, he turns as the door to his quarters opens. "Yes?"

Kelly Chambers rocks back and forth on her heels, before straightening up and saluting with the wrong hand. "Lieutenant Commander Alenko. I'm sorry to interrupt."

He nods, lets the salute slide. She'll learn. "No problem at all, Yeoman." He folds his hands behind him, straightens up. "What can I do for you?"

"We're still having the crew quarters set up." She taps her omnitool, making it chirp. "Iri and Autochan are still doing modifications, so-"

"Auto...chan?"

Kelly shrugs. "I'm fluent in japanese." She smiles. "Anyway, we're still making room, so we're assigning you a room mate."

The door behind Kelly opens once again. And Kaiden stares straight ahead as Liara begins rolling her suitcases in.

* * *

**Chapter 16:**

**The Dawn**

* * *

The Normandy is scheduled to depart in three hours, giving just enough time for this. Floors tick by as Joker stands next to Kasumi, the thief and the pilot in silent contemplation. Agreement. Synergy.

The doors open, releasing the sterile air of the Vault. Passing by ancient Krogan statues, reliefs of great spiders and flowing stone waterfalls, they come to the free standing head of the massive, crowned lady. Kasumi nods, hands folded behind her. Joker steps forward.

Almost immediately, he falls to his knees, arms up and hands held out towards Lady Liberty.

"You _MANIACS!"_ Joker yells, top of his lungs. Kasumi quirks her lip. "_YOU BLEW IT ALL UP! __**DAMN YOU! GODDAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!"**_

Kasumi walks over, helping him up. "Yep. That's _exactly_ it." She shrugs. "Tip of my tongue. Never saw the remakes, though."

"Remakes?"

"One in the early twenty first." She shudders. "No one talks about that one."

He nods, and they begin walking back towards the elevator. "So, question," Joker starts, "How'd Garrus get to Illium? Because I'm pretty sure you had something to do with it."

"Stole the house we were in, moved it to Nos Astra."

Joker opens and closes his mouth. He stares at her. "So...that's like a magic stealing thing, right?"

She shakes her head. "No, no. It's a magic dodgy thing." Joker stares at her harder. "Sidereals avoid danger by removing themselves from the scene. I can dodge danger by removing myself _and_ the scene." She shrugs, as they enter the elevator. "It's all about associations. I can associate the danger with the house. I can also rewrite associations between two people."

Joker nods. Cocking an eyebrow, he tilts his head. "You...didn't do that with me, did you? Like, rewrite things so Kelly suddenly found me attractive, right?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. Smashfists and the Thresher Maw did the work for that one." She grins. "Anyway, associations. College of Endings had the trick I used to save Tali. It's about finishing things; End conflict, end disease, end life. I take some tricks from them, and from the College of Journeys."

She smiles, showing teeth. "College of Serenity's a personal fave of mine, though. Did a few tricks on the Normandy with that."

Joker works his jaw, turning to her. "So, that makes you...what? Other than a magic pixie space ninja?"

She presses the button for the ground floor, grinning in the shadows of her hood. "Why, my dear Joker, I am the Godfather of Happiness. I create it. But most of the time..." The doors begin to close. "I move it. Or as they say, _There once was a Maiden..."_

And the doors close.

* * *

...

* * *

The doors open to Deck 5. Walking out, Shepard scans the armory and shuttle bay, and finds that Jacob isn't there. She had questions for him. Mostly along the lines of 'have you ended Goto's dry spell yet' but with a bit more tact. She's seen what the little pixie thief ninja does when she's angry and doesn't want that on her ship. But, Jacob is not present.

There is, however, a gorilla doing chin ups on a pull up bar by crates. No, wait. That's one of her crew.

Hands folded behind her, she walks towards the crates. She tries to practice walking, swaying slightly. Her foot slips and she almost trips. Rolling her eyes, she walks over to the practicing, overly large crew member.

She clears her throat. He looks over, freezes, and drops into a crouch. Turning to her, he salutes and clicks his heels, eyeing his discarded uniform jacket and shrugging up his shoulders to try to hide the tattoos on his neck.

"Commander Shepard, sir! Lieutenant James Vega reporting, sir!"

She smirks. "At ease, Lieutenant. And it's 'Ma'am.' Or 'Shepard.'"

He nods. "Yes, Ma'am." He relaxes the salute. "Sorry, Lieutenant Taylor's up in CiC if ya needed him. I just finished setting up the armory if you wanted to inspect it," he gestures behind him, "And we're still unloading parts for when we pick up the Normandy's Hammerhead."

"Hammerhead?"

"New combat craft," he says, and shrugs, "Hovercraft. Guided missile launcher." Scratching the back of his head, and rolls his eyes. "Armor like coffee paper, though. Would'a preferred a Mako, but no one's good at usin' the damn mass effect controls on those and they keep bouncin'em off everything."

Jane cocks an eyebrow. Craning his neck, the lieutenant goes silent as he drums his fingers on his temple. "Right. Saw the vid. Sorry, Ma'am. Shepard. Sir."

Vega coughs. "So, anyway, Ma'am," he says, "Anything I can help you with?"

She smirks, smacking him on the arm. "Not much. We still have a bit before launch, so I'm getting to know the crew." She takes a look, turning from him to the mounted Shuttle and the crates. "So what's your story, Lieutenant?"

He shrugs. "Nothing special. I'm just one've those kids who joined up 'cause his home sucked. Deadbeat dad, not much to do at home. Joined the fleet 'cause I wanted to save the galaxy." He rubs his arm where she smacked him. "Word of an opening on the Normandy showed up, and I jumped for it."

She nods, pacing the cargo bay. "So," she says, spinning on her heel, "What've you been brought up to date on?"

"I know you if you punch me, they'll need a _mop."_ He shrugs, counting off his fingers. "According to what I overheard from T'Soni, you can breathe methane. According t'Chakwas, you can run like a leopard. An' according to Joker, you can crap dark matter."

Jane smirks. "I wouldn't say a leopard. More like a cheetah."

Vega whistles. "Anyway, was lookin' for a sparring partner. Taylor said he'd oblige me, but he's probably tradin' stories with Vakarian by now." He reaches behind the crates. "An' since you can probably punch me across a dreadnought, I was wondering if you'd oblige me with something, Ma'am?"

He pulls out two long bamboo staves, each one as tall as him. Dropping one, he kicks it before it hits the floor and sends it flying into Shepard's outstretched hand. She twirls it in one hand, grinning. "Knowing how my powers work, I'm probably going to be an expert before I leave this floor."

He shrugs, twirling the staff and stretching it across his broad shoulders. "I figure 'teach Commander Shepard how to staff fight' looks good on my N7 application." A grin parts his features. "So, Ma'am. I know you can shoot and I know you can kick ass. But can you _dance?"_

* * *

...

* * *

The golden disc glows faintly, illuminating the interior of the small hut he has built for himself. They offered him mansions, towers, apartments and houses. But he built this small hut with his own hands. He is not a king, he insisted. He is a general, and he will not rule. He will train. He will teach.

She finds him sitting cross legged on the floor of the hut, next to the chair and table that are the only furnishings. This is not surprising; her memories of him tell her that this is how he has always been. Exaltation does not change a man; it simply lets them be who they can be.

She knocks on the side of the door, and he rolls his shoulders back. Turning to her, he opens his four glowing eyes. The rays of sunlight hover around the golden ring as it turns, providing the light for the normally unlit room. Vessae smiles, but his face remains stoic, stone.

She holds up the sealed box. "I brought food," she says, "You haven't eaten all day. You must be hungry."

"I am," he admits. She walks to him, sits across from him and opens the container. "What reports do you have?"

"Wong has been monitoring communications." , she says. His lips quirk up. He has a fondness for the human girl. She continues, nonetheless. "We're getting company. The Alliance is sending the Normandy to investigate Eden Prime."

He nods. "The Normandy. Why is this significant?"

She takes out a sandwich, unwrapping it. "It's commanding officer, Shepard. She is the Zenith."

Javik looks up from the box. "I see." His smile goes ever so slightly wider. "Then we should have something prepared to welcome them."

* * *

...

* * *

The doors to the cockpit open, and Kaidan walks in to find Joker with a bowl of popcorn in his lap and a screen open, hearing the sounds of grunts and yells from the speakers. "Aren't we supposed to be launching soon?"

Joker shushes him, hunched over the screen. "So, you and Liara?"

Kaidan rolls his eyes. "Yes. We're room mates. And yes, you heard about that?"

Joker snickers. "No. Just guessed."

Kaidan rubs the bridge of his nose. He hears more grunts, more yells. "Joker, please tell me you're not watching porn in the cockpit?"

"Better than that." Joker leans to the side, giving Kaidan a view. "The new meat slab got the bright idea of asking Commander Punchsplode to spar with him. Either he's got more balls than _Wrex,_ or he's going to be Chakwas' new favorite. Popcorn!" He tosses a handful back, crunching with a smile. "Get in my mouth _now!"_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"Ow! Mother f-"_

"Your fault for leaving your hands where I can hit them, ma'am!"

There is a sound of wood breaking. A yelp, followed by two loud _cracks._ "That ain't fair!"

_WHAP. WHAP. WHAP._

And thus ends the battle between Lieutenant James Vega and Commander Jane Shepard.

Face down on the floor, Vega rubs the back of his head and the pronounced lumps on it. Shepard rubs the welt on her hands, watching as they close and return to perfect, unblemished skin before twirling the two halves of her fighting staff. "Of course it isn't fair. I'm _superpowered."_

She flips one of the sticks and tosses it. It flies through the air, hangs, and returns to her outstretched hands. "Sweet. I have _mind powers_ now."

"_Commander, if you're done breaking in the new meat, we're ready to leave for Eden Prime."_

She nods. "Take us out, Joker." She turns, extending a hand as James pulls himself up to his hands and knees. "Took that better than I expected. Let's get you to Chakwas."

* * *

...

* * *

A burst of blue lightning, and the Normandy appears. Space folds behind it, the rings of the Exodus Mass Relay spinning in their perpetual task. Accelerating away from the megastructure, the Normandy cuts through the void towards the green and blue world second from the star.

"Stealth drives engaged," Joker reports, "All systems green. Drift of seven thousand kilometers and we are in the Utopia System."

Seamless joints hum as Shepard walks up behind him. Her blue powered armor radiates sunlight, warming the cabin while lines of gold flow up and down the plates. "Good," she says, "Keep us out of visual range of any Reapers. Get us within shuttle jump range and wait for our signal."

Joker nods, fingers dancing on the keyboard. "_Shepard."_ EDI pops up next to him, red line flickering. "_I do not believe we need to be concerned about Reapers."_

A second hologram appears. One of a Reaper. A Sovereign, bisected and shattered, drifting in orbit of Eden Prime. "_Long range sensors indicate that this Reaper was engaged in close ranged combat with local patrol fleets, but I cannot determine what weapon destroyed it."_

Joker pauses, glancing at the hologram. Adjusting his cap, he turns back to the controls. "Dead Reaper, huh? That's not _always_ a bad sign."

She leans against the seat. The seat rotates slightly, Joker turning his head to stare at her. "Joker?" she asks.

"Yeah, sorry. Not used to being, y'know, mobile. Reflex." A pause, a beat. He purses his lips, and she notes his eyes never make up it past her collarbone. "You know what that armor needs? Boob window."

"Sorry. The armor was designed by a thirteen year old, so all the attention's on my ass." Behind her, EDI is quiet. The red line wavers from side to side. "What's wrong, Joker?"

"Thinking we're one for one on 'Getting Spectre's killed when we visit Eden Prime,' myself." He mutters under his breath. The seat turns back to the console. "Let's try not to repeat that, can we? Because between the dead Reaper and the non-responsive colony, I've got a bad feeling about this."

She nods. "Well, worst comes to worst, we can use Lawson's plan B and turn me into a cyborg zombie space pirate." A gauntleted hand slaps Joker on the shoulder. "Keep the ship safe, Joker. I'm heading down."

* * *

...

* * *

There is a flash of blue lightning. Hovering inches above the ground, the golden sphere bobs from side to side before rising and staring down the barrel of the rifle aimed directly at the single rotating eye. "_Hello!" _The rifle sparks, turns red, and drops to the ground. "_My apologies, but it is RUDE to do that!"_

Looking up from the overheated, partially melted rifle, he stares down several more identical rifles. All held by several humans, all in the same black body armor with the blue aura of kinetic barriers surrounding them. "_Ah, yes. Tiger Warriors!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The cloud cover gives way to the steel and carbon towers of the Eden Prime settlement. The homesteads and skyscrapers are a field of gray from this high up, criss crossing with the green of the mobile farms that dominate the landscape. The green and white contrast against the black, scattered across one of the massive fields. It is a corpse, desiccated and stripped, torn apart for parts but still maintaining the same, distinctive shape.

A Reaper.

"Well," James says while his fingers dance over the controls of the shuttle cockpit, "I'm...gonna go with what Joker said. Can't _always_ be a bad sign, right?"

Shrill tones fill the shuttle interior. The dim blue of the interior becomes red. "Okay," James corrects, "We...we are now being targeted by ground to air batteries and being given instructions to land. Commander?"

Behind James, Shepard nods. "Set us down. Keep our barriers and the guns warm, Lieutenant." On the back of his seat, her hand tenses, bending the metal. "Just in case."

Blue flames flare from the bottom of the shuttle as it descends. A metal landing pad surrounded by armored soldiers and a handful of six wheeled armored carriers surround them. Red lights from snipers paint the hull. Turrets from the Makos are pointed at the shuttle as the doors open. Shepard is out first, followed by Garrus and James. The doors close shortly after and Jane raises both hands.

"My name is Commander Jane Shepard of the SSV Normandy," she announces, "I've been sent here to investigate why Eden Prime has gone silent." Her eyes scan the soldiers. Full face helmets. Kinetic barriers. Tight formation. As one, they raise their guns, still at ready but no longer aimed at her.

Something pulls at the back of her head. She feels it like a tingle behind her eyes. Stepping back, her hand wanders to the holster on her hip, and she sees it just as it comes down from the sky. It hits the landing pad hard enough to dent. The alien lands fist first and kneeling, knuckles cracking underneath the leather gauntlet.

"I know who you are, **Zenith."**

Clad in mail and leather, he rises. His head is sloped back and flat, four horizontal eyes glowing solid gold. The nostrils that lay flat against his face flare, and his mouth bare teeth for a moment before twisting into an amused smile.

"I am Javik." The sunburst symbol flickers to life on his brow. "**And I am the Dawn."**

* * *

...

* * *

Telescopic lenses built into her leftmost eye give her a clear view of the meeting. Standing at the top of the nearest arcology tower, Vessae folds her arms and watches. The Dawn, and the Zenith. The last time they met, the Dawn killed the Zenith. But that was an entire cycle ago. Back when the Protheans were in decline, and the Reapers ravaged the galaxy.

The alchemical watches, however. She will not intervene- not yet. She needs to let this play out. Let Javik interact with the Zenith. With Shepard. See that this one is not his ancient enemy, not the one he blames for the fall of their people.

"_Hey thar!"_ She blinks. Turning, she finds the transparent image floating next to her. The pointed feline ears and eight eyes, mandibles twitching into her imitation of a smile. "_Been lookin' all over for you, Vessae!"_

_ "_Iri?" She turns to the meeting, then back to the hologram. "Iri, what are you doing here?"

"_Respected Autochthon's orders are to not let any Alchemical Exalted be pressed into service by a mad Solar, Vessae!" _The mandibles twitch and she rubs two of her many hands together. "_Sooo~oo I'm gonna be right over to stuff you in my Elseworld pocket and get you back to the Normandy!"_

_ Something behind her eyes. _Like electricity. Something familiar and dreaded at the same time. Something humming between her ears. She turns back to the meeting. "Iri, hold off on that," she says, "Did you just feel that?"

* * *

...

* * *

This was going to go so well, Jane Shepard mused. This was a Dawn. _General Kings,_ that voice in the back of her soul whispered. _Legendary leader warriors of the golden times,_ the thoughts say. From the soldiers surrounding them, to the Reaper lying dead on the fields, she could tell that this was someone she _needed._

This was someone who couldn't just _fight_ the Reapers. This is someone who could _win._ This was a fellow _Solar Exalted,_ a fellow super...well, superprothean she guesses, which she needed as an ally.

And then Garrus grabbed the shotgun from her armor and shot him in the chest.

Her eyes go from the Prothean, lying on his back, to the turian holding the smoking gun. Instinctively, her hand wraps around the weapon and squeezes, compressing metal and sending sparks flying as she yanks it out of his hand.

"The _fuck was that?!"_ she demands.

Mandibles twitch and Garrus explains. "I don't _know."_ Or he doesn't, instead staring blankly at the downed Javik. "I just...I felt _consumed_ by hate for him." He blinks, turning from the fallen Exalt to Jane. "Which is weird. When I hate someone, I usually use a sniper rifle."

Mandibles twitch again. Garrus rubs just jaw and cocks his brow. Red lights paint them as the soldiers around them level their guns. James already has his rifle out. The Makos, for some reason, have yet to actually move. "So...is he dead?"

The ground trembles with a heartbeat. Everyone- soldier and Exalt, covers their eyes as the sky turns gold with the pillar of sunlight rising from the platform. The only thing louder than the groaning of metal is the _roar _from the center of the column.

And then the golden gauntlet wraps around Garrus' neck. "**That was your one free shot."**

"That's a no, then," Garrus croaks. The shotgun is yanked out of Jane's hand, jammed into Garrus' mouth and the trigger squeezed. The back of the turian's head blows out. And then goes to liquid, reforming before the pellets fly out of Garrus' mouth. A yell, and Garrus drops. And Jane moves.

Jane grabs his collar and throws him. The blur burns the air where Garrus was and the shuttle goes flying, flipping through the air and exploding into a fireball as it hits the ground.

She sees the giant clad in plated sunlight. He moves. She moves as fast, placing herself between him and the turian and slamming her fist into his. Her skin becomes invulnerable. Invincible. The golden plate shatters against her armored fist, and she locks her gaze with the four glowing eyes beneath the molten gold helm.

And then his other fist slams into her chest and sends her _flying._

* * *

...

* * *

As the dust clears, James coughs before locking his helmet on. Looking up and finding the soldiers surrounding them, he mutters under his breath as Garrus climbs to his feet. "Ya know," the lieutenant mutters, "Maybe we shoulda brought backup?"

The ground shakes. The soldiers back away, looking up. And James turns to find a simply _gigantic_ twelve legged spider towering over them. One leg stabs down next to James, tearing through metal and concrete. Engines rumble, and the turrets of the Makos move. Mainly, to aim at the soldiers.

"_Y HELLO THAR,"_ the chirpy, friendly voice booms, "_I'M IRI! AND I'VE JUST TAKEN CONTROL OF ALL YOUR TANKS!"_

And then the giant spider opens her mandibles, disgorging hundreds of cat sized spiders upon the soldiers.

* * *

...

* * *

The impact was several meters ahead of her, as she can tell from the trench she has dug. Pria is screaming in her ear. Something about 'Elder' and 'overwhelming' and 'reactions' and oh yes 'Completely Fucked.' She understood _that._ She also understands the roar of rage ringing through the air. Kicking off, vents along her back spiral open and catapult her out of the way.

The golden figure slams into the ground behind her, erasing the ground beneath him with one golden fist. Landing on one foot, she kicks and flies. She lashes out, willing her hands to rending. The punch deflects off his forearm. Twisting, mid flight, she kicks him in the chest and blasts the jets for good measure

Does all of dick before his gauntlet slams into her stomach and carves a new trench in the ground.

"Ow." Vents on the back shoot out, and she is on her feet just as he charges. She aims, moves, and kicks off. Then he moves in a blink and drives her head into the ground.

She bounces once, twice. Landing in a crouch, she breathes heavily as she circles him. His eyes are glowing slits as the helm evaporates. "Okay," she says, hands up, "Okay. Just...just calm the _fuck down."_

The answer is rage. The golden sunburst forms on his brow. The double halo of rotating gold hovers behind him as he takes a single step and the ground quakes. If she could even see her crew at this point, she could imagine Vega nudging Garrus and asking if she thought this would work. She can dream.

* * *

...

* * *

There is a burst of blue lightning, and the two land in a crouch. Coughing, he goes prone, crawling on his stomach to overlook the small army surrounding the landing pad and the flaming wreck of the shuttle in the distance. "Going in," he rumbles, "Concussive shots only."

Two petals rise. His companion pulls the rifle from its back, snapping out the scope and attaching it to the single, unblinking white eye. "_Affirmative."_

Thunder cracks, and one of the soldiers collapses with a groan. The side of his helmet is bright red and paint is chipped, and James mutters to himself as he grabs his discarded rifle. There is a burst of motion and the soldier in front of him is slammed face first into the shuttle pad. The one next to him folds out the blade from his omnitool and swings.

He hits a cloud of white butterflies before a fist collides with his jaw and sends him down, the two behind him dropping as two kicks hit them in the chest.

Three more thunder cracks, and three more soldiers drop. He ducks under one of the armored grunts as he goes flying over his head, and the landing zone goes still as James realizes he is one of the only three people left standing. Him, Garrus, and the Quarian who has just kicked the crap out of two dozen soldiers.

He glances at the groaning, barely conscious grunts. He turns to Garrus, who shrugs. And then he turns to the quarian and begins clapping. "Sweet. Who're you?"

"Kal'Reegar. Migrant Fleet Marines." The quarian rolls his shoulders. Electricity sparks along the knuckle dusters on his gauntlets. "No time for explanations. Where's Commander Shepard?"

* * *

...

* * *

The fist slams into the ground. Soil cracks, spider webbing in a perfect circle around them. The pulse tosses her off her feet, into the air, and she sees the motion, a split second before his fist comes within fingerwidths of her face. Grabbing his wrist, Jane flows around him. Swinging underneath, she twists and drives her knuckles between those four eyes.

The prothean moves through the punch. Her gauntlet cracks and her bare fingers touch his face and

_ALERT_

_ the world burning beneath_

_ ALERT_

_ unknown enemy the CITADEL HAS BEEN LOST_

_ Suns collapse above the skies of a thousand worlds. Where is the Emperor? Where is the Circle?_

_ ALERT_

_ The sky turns red. Fire consumes cities as the great roaring beasts march over armies as the empire collapses into warring states_

_ ALERT_

_ The bass roar. Where is the Emperor?_

_ HOW HAVE WE BEEN ABANDONED_

Jane stumbles back. Javik stumbles back. The four eyes flash, the black hourglass pupils dilating for a moment before becoming solid gold once more. "You _knew?"_ His voice grinds with renewed anger. "You saw our warnings! You knew _and you have done nothing?!"_

He moves like molten gold, flying through the air towards Shepard. His hand back, a rod of sunlight becomes a flawless golden sword. Roaring, the Prothean dives upon her, trailing liquid light behind him as the air itself burns in his power.

And then the tank shell hits him as the Mako clears the hill.

The ancient warlord jumps back as the shells impact the space he was in. Leaping with inhuman speed, he jinks and dodges like a man possessed, dancing through the floor of bullets and rockets. Each volley makes him step backwards, avoiding the scything fire and explosions as his roar of anger matches the roar of the engines.

He is driven back by the cascade, but only for moments. Then he blurs, burning a path through the green field and slamming his fist into the hood of the tank.

The Mako folds in upon itself like a metal accordion. Wheels fly off in every direction. Shattered glass reflects off his stony gray face. And the top hatch opens, but not from the punch. Instead, it explodes off from explosive bolts. Looking up, Javik sees a seat flying off into the sky.

And then sees James Vega as the soldier drops feet first onto his face.

Or, more importantly, attempts to. Because Javik simply _flows_ and the descending human finds himself drop kicking the sunlight made sword.

"Well that just ain't fair," James sighs.

A flick of the Prothean's wrist, and James rolls to a stop at Shepard's feet.

"Lieutenant?" Jane asks.

"Remind me next time ta hit'im with a shuttle," James groans, lying face first on the ground, "All yours, boss."

* * *

...

* * *

The starlit void becomes the blue haze of atmosphere as the shuttle descends, engines flaring blue and brief red glow on its hull marking its transition from space to world. Space is serene, peaceful. Quiet.

Here, however, they can see the golden pillar with their naked eyes. "Well," Kaidan says, hands over the controls in practiced motions, "I'm going to go off on a limb and go with the assumption that _Shepard_ also puts on that sort of light show?"

The shuttle speeds along. Next to Kaidan, Liara nods, checking her pistol as the light show bleaches the ground and stabs miles into the sky.

"She can," she responds, "I saw her do that once on Illium, and saw recordings of her doing that when she fought Morinth. Problem is..." She taps her omnitool. A video comes up, seconds before the other shuttle was trashed. "It's not Shepard who's doing that. The...the _Prothean_ is like her."

Kaidan nods. Pursing his lips, cocking an eyebrow, he bobs his head from side to side, choosing his words. "So...why are we stepping into the middle of this, then?"

A second pillar of light flares. "Oh, that's just better," Kaidan adds, "I've seen enough pop culture to recognize what that means. Shepard's also pissed off now?"

Liara nods. "An excellent assumption." She shrinks into her seat, sighing. "This...was not well thought out. I thought that it would be a good idea to go down and defuse the situation by talking with the Prothean. Most likely he is unaware of the survivors on Deus Machina or the synthetic Prothean we encountered."

"Please tell me you won't call him 'Prothean' when you meet him." He turns to her, smirking. "Or at least something dignified. Like 'Prothy.'" She levels a glare at him and he only smirks wider. "Anyway."

She taps on her omnitool again, and brings up a split second image before the video shorts out. "Faster," she says, "Shepard's told me that glowing like that tires her out. She needs help."

Kaidan nods, bringing the shuttle into a dive. "Diving into certain death, against an ancient alien which outclasses us in all respects." He shrugs. "Just like old times."

* * *

...

* * *

"Nothing?"

Jane catches the punch with her palm. Behind her, grass blows out, stripping the soil. "You think I've done _nothing?"_ She catches the other punch. The caste mark glows on her forehead, in time with the prothean's. "You _sanctimonious fuck!"_

Her forehead slams against his. Ground spiderwebs. The wrecked tank hops. Swinging, their fits slam into each other, but they do not move. "I killed their _vanguard!_ I _warned the Council!_" Her fist slams into his sword, cracking it and tearing gouges into the ground. "Your warning was _fucking gibberish!"_

The fist slams into her chest. The shoulder plates of her armor fly off. The chestplate compresses and cracks. She is sent flying backwards, into and through the wrecked tank, rolling to a stop in the freshly made trench.

The tank rises, held up by one hand by the prothean, golden eyes glowing slits. Jane struggles to her knees, struggles to her feet, before the wreck bounces off her and lays her onto her back. The golden sword is held to her throat and she sees the caste mark glowing like a sun upon his brow.

"I have **seen your memories,**" the prothean growls, "**I have seen how you have squandered this damnable power! And I have seen that if you are the best hope for this Cycle, then the Reapers have already won!"**

He brings the blade high. Sunlight flashes across the edge as he roars, and-

And then the ground shakes. The ground cracks and Javik stumbles back, just as the pistol retracts into Vessae's elbow. Her eyes level on the prothean Solar, walking from the self made crater and between him and Shepard.

"Father," she says, "That's _enough."_

* * *

...

* * *

Javik stands up. His eyes narrow, and slowly the caste mark fades and his fists unclench. The sword vanishes from his hand as Vessae walks over, helping Shepard stand. She is correct, he muses. She is right, he thinks. This is enough. Once more, his rage has consumed him- and this time it was not directed at his enemies, but at one he must make into an ally.

Because she is _right._ She has done more in this Cycle than he has. She has warned their leaders. She has destroyed one of the seventeen Vanguards. She is the best hope this cycle has of survival- of victory. He has seen all this and more.

But what he did not see what the other human. So it is surprise that hits Javik, this time.

Surprise, and earth, as James Vega grabs the prothean from behind and drives him head first into the ground with a masterfully executed German Supplex.

"Aw yeah!" Hands up, fingers pointing out, the armored human stands above the unconscious exalt and whoops. "That's right! That's right! Go all glowy and shit and I will _still_ drive yo _ass into the ground!"_

One foot on the unconscious Javik, one fist pumped into the air and backlit by the sun, James slowly becomes aware of the two women watching him. But very slowly.

"Come here all glowy and shit and you still get your ass kicked by marines! Your boys better all _duck! _Cause I'm about to _turn left_ an I don't want to **smack you with my dick!"**

Looking up, he sees Vessae and Shepard staring at him. Taking his foot off Javik, he salutes. "Ma'am. Should I cuff him?"

* * *

...

* * *

The Relay spins to life. The rings spin faster, faster than they should. White lights run along the length of the extended prongs and the entire megastructure flashes blue before releasing the fleet.

Space is a vacuum. No sound travels through it. But every radio, every receiver, every ansible in the system plays the same sound. The numbing, terrible bass roar. Every sensor and warning beacon that still works in the system shows the hundreds of shapes entering the system from the relay. Dozens, hundreds of smaller cruisers. Thirty ships, each two kilometers long.

The Reapers have come.

The fleet of newly formed Destroyers, flanked by countless black orbs which glow with crimson lightning flies ahead of the dreadnoughts. They fly through dead ships and kuiper belts, deflecting flotsam and rock off their bare hulls, a swarm of red eyes and bass roars marking their paths.

It is then that they notice that something is wrong. Not amiss, for that implies something as simple as miscalculation. The ageless, infinite minds of the Reapers realize that something is _wrong._ They should have passed _planets_ at this point. Moons and comets. But instead, they only find wreckage and the void.

And then, precise, exacting laughter fills the emptiness of space.

"**Limited things of sickness and blasphemy. You come to my stronghold and you delude yourselves with force of arms."**

The first of the worlds comes into view. It was once a small moon around one of the planets. Possibly a comet, caught in the gravity well of a world. But now it is a perfect sphere, glowing with colorless white fire.

"**You believe you are beyond judgement. That you are beyond threats. You believe wrong."**

Thirty dreadnoughts, hundreds of destroyers, and countless occuli open fire at once. Spheres shatter under the onslaught. The glass world melts and distorts, beams of liquid metal carving it in half. White fire fills the void.

And then one of the destroyers explodes as a single shard of crystal cores it from end to end.

Beams fire off from the dreadnoughts and the fighters as the destroyers begin exploding, one by one. Crystal spheres the size of the world-globe begin appearing. A slow, steady realization dawns upon the godlike intellects of the Reapers. Because they can now see what was the _star_ of this system. As the white fire bathes them and the star _moves, _the Reapers revisit a long buried emotion.

Terror.

"**There is a realm of existence so far beyond yours that the best you can do is mock it through imitation and worship. We are that existence."**

Ten thousand spheres hover through the void. Shards of crystal and glass rain down upon the Reaper fleet as the small, high pitched laugh echoes through the machines, along with a silent whisper of a name.

"**We are Hierarchy."**

* * *

...

* * *

There is a burst of motion and blue lightning, and they look up from the unconscious Prothean as Tali appears in a crouch. She stands up, dusts herself off, and pumps her shotgun. "Sorry I was late," she announces, "But that _bosh'tet_ didn't leave detailed notes and I had to work out the mechanics myself!"

Rolling her shoulders, she walks across the field and towards Shepard, half glancing at Javik and James. "Kal and Wuffles went ahead with Kal's new magical bullshit. I had to stay behind and work out the Relay systems from pretty much scratch. Adienna will be here as soon as it finishes recharging."

Shepard blinks and slowly, steadily, raises her hand. "Tali? How did you get here?"

"Autochthon and I figured out a way to create a mass relay without a set end point." The quarian shrugs. "He was test driving it to get back to the Normandy, but he took all the plans with him. I refined it, cut down the power usage, and prototyped it. And sent myself here."

Shepard works her jaw. Vessae stares at her, open mouthed. "Tali," Jane says, "Clarify. You just..._sent_ yourself right here with a mass relay?"

Tali shakes her head, waving to her side with her shotgun. James does not duck, despite the barrel waving by his head. "Nono. No. I _made_ a Relay in my lab on the Rayya, using my...corrections to the blueprints Autochthon apparently wrote on the wall with his own poop. And then sent myself here with it. Like a biotic charge."

Both the Solar and the Alchemical stare at her. "Miss Tali," Vessae says, "You just _revolutionized_ Relay travel."

Tali blinks. Folding up her shotgun, she walks over and fist bumps Shepard.

"Fuck yes, I did! Props."

The air on Shepard's right shoulder distorts, and becomes the diminutive form of the god currently hosted on the admittedly worn armor. "_Excellent. So we have just about every known exalt currently in the same immediate area, is that right?"_

Shepard shrugs. "No idea where Kasumi is, Pria. And there's me, Garrus, the guy that James knocked unconscious and who else?"

A white butterfly passes by Shepard's face. She turns, blinking, and finds Kal'reegar standing in front of her. Different encounter suit, yes. But that isn't the only difference. "Okay, what the fuck?"

"_Excuse the exposition, Shepard,"_ Pria says, blocking Jane's view, "_But Reegar here has exalted as the Chosen of Journeys. I assume that Goto is somewhere here. And with Javik and Vakarian, we only need the Eclipse to make the full Circle. Which leads to our current problem."_

Jane blinks, and shrugs. "What's the current problem?"

The ground cracks and quakes, sending them off their feet. Spherical fist impacted in the soil and stone, red patterned face focused on Shepard, the intruder glows red from atmospheric entry. Pria's face is drawn. Her eyes focused on the creature. "_The problem, Shepard, is that Seeker has been __waiting for you."_

And the air splits with the sound of the terrible bass horn. The sky splits, and Shepard looks up just as the great metal scorpion appears directly over them. Another roar, and the shapes begin to descend upon them. Several with six arms, some with more. Some trailing whip like tendrils behind them. Some flying upon skeletal wings.

James works his jaw, pulling his rifle from his back. And then a leathery hand grips his shoulder, and he turns to look into Javik's four glowing eyes.

"You amuse me, human," he says, "You will remain unharmed. For now."

"I suplexed your ass," James mutters, "That ain't right."

Javik shrugs, and pushes past him, past Shepard and Tali, past Kal. "Vessae," he says, turning to the golden woman, "To the colony. Alert my generals. Prepare for war."

The prothean cracks his knuckles. With a roar, he throws out his arms, joined by four arms of pure golden sunlight. And kicking up dust behind him, he runs towards the descending horde, bathed in the aura of the sun.

* * *

...

* * *

The bass horn roars through the skies. Extending the eight legs behind it, the great black scorpion descends towards Eden Prime, red lightning crackling over its flesh and beams of crimson metal carving into the craft that speed towards it.

A golden spec rises into the air, and Seeker shifts, leaving burnt air in its wake as it accelerates. A six armed puppet descends, grappling with the Dawn before Javik tears it in two. Kicking off with a roar, the Exalt shoots himself through the air after the Reaper.

"Beautiful," Jane mutters, "I come here expecting Superman and I get the god damned _Hulk._"

Next to her, Tali cocks her shotgun. Kal slides on his knuckle dusters, and there is a shift of motion as Garrus appears next to James. "Well," the turian says, "Army of descending Reaper made creatures. That's certainly horrible."

"And something tells me the big golden rage monster isn't a team player." James pulls out his assault rifle, unfolding it and cocking it. "Your call, Ma'am."

Jane nods. "Vega, go back with Vessae and get an army. I want you in a tank. Garrus, Reegar, Tali. You're with me. We keep these things focused on us."

Vessae grabs James, forming wheels beneath her feet before speeding off. Jane sighs, taking an offered rifle and cocking it as Garrus folds out his sniper rifle. Pria disappears into her armor, cracks and leaks already beginning to mend themselves. "Three of us verses a Reaper," she sighs, "Entire fleet, and it's always a three man squad."

Garrus shrugs, walking alongside her as the first of the drones stands up from its kneel, waiting as its kin land around it. "Just like old times, Shepard," he says. And then he turns into a velociraptor.

Next to her, Tali taps her omnitool, and a holographic cannon glowing with golden essence appears on her shoulder, followed by a transparent battlesuit.

Jane blinks, and finally shrugs. "Close enough," she says. And her caste mark flares, and she takes off in a blur towards the Seeker and its swarms.

* * *

...

* * *

Kaidan grabs Liara's arm the moment they hear the roar. Grabbing her and pulling her out of the cockpit, he hits the quick release, wind whipping into their faces as she mouths a silent question. Then vocalizes it.

"What are you _doing?!"_

"Reaper," he says, "I have an idea. But it'll target the shuttle. So, I'm hoping your biotics are strong enough to do a feather fall." Another bass roar. "Also, if we both die, well. Sorry."

"For?" she asks. And then Kaidan pulls her in and kiss her. Her eyes close, her shoulders relaxing. "You didn't...have to apologize for that," she breathes.

He nods. "No. But I should for this." And then Kaidan pushes her out of the shuttle. Grabbing the helmet, he fits it on. Armor locks, and he waves his omnitool. The familiar tingle of his amp updating, and he spreads his arms, turning around and dropping from the shuttle.

The shuttle explodes split seconds later as the red beam impacts it, and Kaidan Alenko narrows his eyes as he sees the swarm beneath. All of them fitting the descriptions of what Shepard encountered on the Shadow Broker's ship.

_Update complete,_ the amp beeps. Grinning, Kaidan folds his arms against him, aims, and disappears. A blue ball streaks through the sky, impacting on the back of a six armed monstrosity. It lurches and Kaidan wraps an arm around its neck.

His eyes glow, and the thing's head explodes in a burst of blue. Kicking off of it and spreading his arms, the headless corpse descends as he slows his fall. Disappearing again, he slams into the face of a thinner, leaner creature. Its three arms grab at him, but hit solid biotics. The field detonates. But before it tosses the creature away, he sees the glint of light and grabs.

Holding the curved sword in one hand, Kaidan grins. "Always wanted to do this," he whispers. And he disappears in another burst of blue. Appearing on the back of another six armed giant, he drives the sword into its head and points down. "Let's land, shall we?"

* * *

...

* * *

One balled fist extends into a thin wire and whips out, screaming through the air and deflecting off Shepard's extended hand. Wrapping it around her palm, she pulls and yanks the drone off its feet. A blue of motion and Kal'Reegar appears between them, slamming a fist into its chest and sending it flying sans arm.

A six armed giant lands behind him, swings and hits a flock of white butterflies before a velociraptor tackles him, claws becoming extended blades and lopping off two arms. Gunshots blast out the side of the drone's head, as pairs of bipedal drones leap over the carnage and at Tali.

She turns, cocking her shotgun and extending her free hand. Arcs of electricty zap one, and Shepard vaults over her and sends one flying with an uppercut.

Boot jets flare and she takes off, tacking a descending six armed drone and slamming it into the ground, bouncing off of it and sending a beam into the chest of a whip armed drone. Kal appears behind the wounded drone, gunshot to the back from his side arm blowing a hole before a gunshot to its head drops it.

Wuffles appears in a burst of blue electricity, back to back with Reegar as slender drones with eight arms converge on them. Kal ducks as one swings, Wuffles sending one flying with a punch, a kick between the Geth's legs sweeping a second off its feet as the synthetic sends it into the ground with a downward chop.

Two are crushed under a descending six armed drone, Kaidan slamming into a third in a burst of blue before grabbing his sword and diving into the fray. Kal grabs one, slamming it headfirst into the ground, grabbing its feet and using it as a bludgeon, sending one into the mouth of the waiting thresher maw before it becomes a krogan and begins charging into a massed group of drones.

A burst of blue lightning becomes a Geth Colossus, standing upright and firing off concussive blasts at the descending drones. Another group of drones mass, looking up before the ground they are on- and they as well- become a deep crater. And roaring, Javik flies out, up back into the fray.

Right in time to catch a screaming Liara.

"Calm yourself, Asari," he says, "I have you."

She looks down. Then back at the prothean. "If you have me, who has _you?"_

Shepard lands fist first, taking a drone down, grabbing another as it dives at her and blasting off its head. Unlocking her rifle, she tosses it to Kaidan before extending a hand and firing. The beam deflects off his sword and he turns to blast a line through the advancing drones. Taking off again, she drags the headless drone with her and tosses it into a running six armed brute just before the rampaging rhino impales it on its tusk.

The rhino leaps, becomes a thresher maw, and disappears into the ground before dragging down more drones. A sphere impacts, sprouting six legs and sparking antennae, the same red pattern of Seeker's drones painting over it before turning its weapons on the colossus-mech. And then a shuttle slams into its head and sends it reeling.

James climbs out of the wreckage as more shuttles and fighters dive in, Makos and Grizzly's leading the charge of the Eden Prime militia.

Landing in a crouch, Shepard extends both hands and fires. Two bone winged drones drop in fingerwidths distance of her. Next to her, Tali blows another in half with her shotgun, her shoulder mounted cannon pivoting and blowing the limbs off a six armed brute before Kal appears on its shoulders and tears off its head.

Liara lands next to Shepard, surrounding them both in a blue bubble as several four legged drones leap at them, pulsing it and sending them flying. "Thought you were still on the Normandy," Jane comments.

"Let's just say Kaidan has stepped up to follow your example," Liara breathes.

Jane cocks an eyebrow. "What, he started glowing, too?"

Clicking her tongue, Tali forms a holographic gun on her left arm and bisects a whip drone. "Not to cut into the flirting, but we're being swamped!" She clicks her omnitool, shotgunning the legs off a brute before Wuffles sends it flying with a kick. "Bosh'tet! Get your Orichalcum ass here!"

A flash of white, and the golden giant lands, rolling its head before charging into a mass of brutes. As they go flying, Jane takes a moment to tilt her head. "The fuck is that?"

"Autochthon when he's being _helpful,_" Tali responds, "Also, if I may ask, _where is it getting all these drones from?"_

A bass roar fills the air, and the ground shakes as it lands. Standing dozens, if not hundreds of meters tall, it stands on four legs and casts the battlefield with the red glow of its row of eyes. The Reaper Destroyer roars, letting loose beams of crimson on both armies.

The fields burn as it advances, silent incineration of the drones and screams of the soldiers as blasts from overhead shuttles pepper it. But it ignores them, finally turning its gaze upon Shepard and her crew. Bracing its legs, the plates around its face part and it lets loose the blast. It burns through the air, ignites the grass beneath them.

And deflects off Jane's hand as she stands in font of her compatriots. It burns the ground, melts the gauntlet, and makes her scream at the brief burning pain. And then she blinks and sees the perfect circle of burned soil around her. Liara and Tali both stare at her.

"Oh ho ho, that is _not _okay," Shepard breathes, "Stay here. I'm going to kill a Reaper with my _bare hands._"

* * *

_..._

* * *

_Watching, from on high. Arms folded, iridescent form older, more defined, he watches the battle. He counts almost all of them; Save for the Serenity, they are there. Fighting the forces of Seeker and her Infinite Factory, leading the forces of Eden Prime and stalemating her. The circle. This universe's answer to the Celestial Host, limited as they are._

_ And they still accomplish wonders._

_ The Catalyst, __**Jaded Gatemaker of Ages,**__ watches the battle. Watches the stalemate. It is precarious- save for the Prothean and the Serenity, they are young but eager. They know of the Cycle and are positioned to...interrupt it._

_ But the Cycle is too well built. Too stable. He watches, musing on the words that She told him. Time was their ally, but it may abandon them. But how? What would turn the favor of the universe against them?_

_**Gatemaker.**_

_ The great golden form of their lord and leader appears before him. No longer seeing himself as he once was. He embraced his change like none other ever had. The great eight armed god machine hovers above him, the many eyes staring down on him not with contempt, just...certainty._

_ "Yes."_

_**Open a conduit to Eden Prime. Shepard has been found. **__**I will direct this personally.**_

* * *

...

* * *

Bursts of lightning, and the Destroyers achieve orbit over Eden Prime. Six legs tucked underneath them, they sound their great horns in the thin atmosphere surrounding the planet, the five eyes spreading red light against the black metal of their hull. They rise, the soft cricket and low moan of the Reapers marking their passage.

Slaved to the will of Seeker, they turn upon the battlefield beneath their mistress. Plates retract along their bows, fire chambers gathering red light.

And then one explodes. A mass accelerator round the size of a soda can hits one in the side and rips into it, kinetic force and explosive energy tearing a hole in the Destroyer's head and sending it spinning off. The others turn, blaring their horns as the rounds begin slamming against their hulls.

They see the cruisers, the frigates. Miniscule compared to them. Power less than what they, even lesser to the Greater Reapers, can bring to bear. Engines flaring and guns pointed towards the Reapers, they approach the planet from the Relay. Bits of metal glance off the kinetic barriers of the destroyers, falling into the atmosphere and burning up.

And then they see the ship behind them, just as another round arcs around the planet and smashes one in the face.

On the bridge of her dreadnought, the red haired captain tents her hands in front of her face and grins.

"SSV Normandy," Hannah Shepard says, "This is the Fifth Fleet. We are here to lend assistance."

A hand comes down on the back of her chair. She glances to the side and nods to the white haired man standing next to her. "Eden Prime Militia," he says, "This is Admiral Hackett. Put me in touch with your commanding officer."

Between her chair and the half circle of sensor stations, a blue image appears. It resolves into a young woman in combat armor, saluting them both and holding a rifle in her free hand. "_Admiral Hackett, Captain Shepard. Emily Wong, acting Lieutenant. The CO is currently indisposed."_

Hannah cocks an eyebrow. Hackett folds his hands behind him. "Indisposed, Lieutenant?"

"_Sending you the satellite feeds now."_ The girl disappears, and becomes a screen, just in time to for them to see the flash of light as a walking tank is torn in two by a six armed man. No, no. Not man. A man doesn't have those many eyes. Slowly, deliberately, the alien turns as it hears the beeping, the screen resolving into an image of his giant head.

"_I am Javik. Avatar of Vengeance of the Prothean Empire and Chosen of the Sun. Identify yourselves."_

* * *

...

* * *

Tanks roll back, speeding down the battlefield away from the drones and the towering form of the Reaper. Soldiers hold onto the sides of the tanks or run, sending up flares as they race to safety. The drones follow. Or attempt to, as the first rounds of artillery tear into their ranks. Explosions rip through the battlefield, distant cannons firing on command to stagger the horde and the beast which leads them.

And through the dust and smoke, a single figure races.

The golden disc glows on her bare forehead, and the sunlight trails off her as she charges through the ranks of the drones.

"_Shepard,"_ Pria says, appearing on her shoulder, "_I seriously advise against this course of action."_

"Why not?"

Two six armed drones dive in. She leaps over one, hand standing on its head and slamming both feet into another. Boot jets flare, blasting a hold in one as she casually tears off the head of the other. Pria rolls her eyes.

"_Because you can't outrun tanks. Yet."_

She turns. The tanks are retreating, and she swears. "Right. Time to hitch a ride." Tapping her omnitool, her helmet closes over her head as the artillery strikes blast around her. "Let's test a theory. Garrus! I need a lift!"

The smoke parts, and Jane reaches out to grab the side of the charging velociraptor's arm. A single motion, and she lets herself act by instinct. What should be a solid ton of armor is light as a feather. What should be a complex motion is easy as a thought. And Jane Shepard twists in mid air and mounts the dinosaur bareback.

"Still getting used to the bullshit hack magic?" Garrus asks.

"Getting better. We're charging that Reaper."

"You have _no_ idea how much I missed you, Shepard."

Hugging close to Garrus, the landscape blurs. They charge through the ranks, the roar of the explosions and the bass horn of the massive creature echoing. Blue plate encloses her face, white eyes and golden lines breaking the uniformity.

"_Jane? It's Mom."_ The screen folds out in her right eye, showing her Hannah's face. "_Admiral Hackett's in a dick fighting contest with a Prothean, I have the Orizaba and the fifth fleet in orbit of Eden Prime and what the Hell is going on there?"_

"Reaper."

"_Oh, of course."_ The image of Hannah smacks herself on the head. "_And since Hackett and the ancient alien asshole are still arguing, I'll direct the Eden Prime forces. Serviceman Tolwyn, status of our reinforcements?"_

_ "Relay active, Captain, should be here in five."_

Hannah nods. The roar of the Reaper becomes louder as Garrus blurs to the side, missing blasts of red by fingerwidths. "_Get us in staggered firing line with those destroyers. Serviceman Chung, get us a firing solution with our broadsides. We need..."_

Her eyes go wide. The hologram flickers. "_Well, shit. That's not our reinforcements, is it?"_

* * *

...

* * *

"Just exited the Relay, Captain." The serviceman at the front console of the CIC brings up the image, fingers dancing on controls. Large, swept back. Faint flickers as it keeps appearing and disappearing. "It's making short FTL jumps and we can't get an accurate picture of dimensions."

It starts as a rumble along deck plates. The image of Javik's head disappears mid pronouncement, as the lights along the CIC of the Orizaba begin to dim. Hackett looks up, then back to Shepard.

"That can't be good."

Then, it appears in front of them. In front of their fleet. Five times the length of the Orizaba. Eight metal tentacles uncurl around its form, as a multitude of golden eyes open. The swept back body comes to two tapering points as it hovers above the world.

And every deck plate in the fleet vibrates at the sound of the deep bass roar.

"Firing solution, and..." Hannah says, "Fuck it. Serviceman Chung, you have permission to fire from the hip on that _ugly_ son of a bitch."

The massive ship whirs about. Thrusters on the sides fire, moving it to face its bow towards the black ship, as capacitors running along the spine of the Orizaba come to life and spark blue. The barrel of the gun, a kilometer long, hums as the charge reaches critical.

And then every light on the ship shuts off. Emergency lighting bathes the CIC in a red glow, as Hannah stands and turns around, the ship rocking and Hackett grabbing the chair to keep himself upright.

The other ships begin to drift as well, weapons going silent and engines going dim. All as the massive Reaper turns to them, bathing the bridge in a golden glow.

**You attempt to fire upon us with the technology and power we have left you. But, the forces of the universe bend to **_**me.**_

The golden light bathes the bridge. The central hologram becomes a golden light, eight eyes blinding them and forcing them to avert their gaze.

**Limited creatures of blood and flesh. You are brought before me and you stumble in ignorance. Incapable of understanding that which is before you.**

Doors close around them. The ship locks itself down, blast shields clamping around the windows.

**Your ships are no longer your own. This battlefield now belongs to me. Your actions have become wasted effort. And your forces now serve me.**

"The fuck is this," Hannah growls, hand over her eyes, "Think he even hears me?"

**Yes. Shepard.** The eyes turn. They center on Hannah. **You are the progenitor of Shepard.**

"That's _Captain_ Shepard." She brings down her hand, staring directly into the gaze of the Reaper, "And this is my ship. Identify yourself and give me a reason why I am not sending five kilogram slugs directly down your nose."

Half the eyes narrow. **Your threats are as empty as your role in this battle. But we see similarities to Shepard. We are Harbinger. And this system is now mine. Gatemaker. Send the rest.**


	17. Golden Sun over Paradise

_He watches, from on high. Arms folded, face drawn. Harbinger has arrived at Eden Prime. In one fell swoop did the First King of the Reapers, __**Resplendent Harbinger of Ascension, **__disable the human fleet. And now the order has come; Damn the cycle, damn the Citadel._

_ Send the rest. The Harvest must begin._

_ Closing his eyes, he presses his hand against the invisible wall around him in the Room of White. His lair, his sanctum. Where he controls the Network, and he pulls at the lock between the Horde and the Galaxy. And with a thought, he opens the channel for the masses. And..._

_ And..._

_ And they do not come._

_ "HELLO! I'm sorry, but I just felt it was __**wildly inappropriate**__ to bring the entirety of the Reaper forces here when I am __**busy experimenting.**__"_

_**Jaded Gatemaker of Ages**__ turns to the familiar voice, and finds hovering next to his face a golden sphere with a shifting, metallic eye. Stepping back, eyes wide, the spirit cum AI opens his mouth in a cry of shock._

_ "Autochthon?"_

_ "Yes! YES!" The golden sphere advances upon the Catalyst, cackling with glee, "I __**understand**__ that your spirit has been slaved into AI forked-servitude as the __**controlling aspect**__ of the __**Relay System!**__ Which I believe may be a __**personal insult**__, as I always did __**like**__ Leaping Sky!"_

_ The back of the sphere opens. Wildly waving arms ending with buzz saws, chain saws, blowtorches and a varied multitude of devices swing out._

_ "And as __**history**__ shows, I do __**not**__ respond well to __**insults!**__ In fact, I __**over react!"**_

_The iris narrows. The sanctum fills with cackling, manic laughter. And a golden glow issues from inside the iris as the Great Maker advances on the ghost of his friend._

_ "Now, hold still while I __**fix your everything."**_

* * *

**Chapter 17:**

**Golden Sun Over Paradise**

* * *

The best way to describe it, he muses, is that he is there before the beam hits and then he is somewhere else. Where most Quarians would overly analyze these powers, Kal'Reegar simply rolls with it and realizes this bullshit has saved his life more times than he can count. Wading through the masses, the hordes, Kal sends them flying one by one.

"_Well hi there,"_ a voice purrs in his ear.

Kal blinks, and finds in the corner of his eye the holographic girl that Shepard usually argues with. Only, instead of sitting on Shepard's shoulder- as she is busy riding a turian into battle- she is sitting on the inside of his helmet and grinning at him. Not in a playful way. More like in the way that most every woman he encounters does.

"_Roomy in here. A girl could, y'know, make a back door into these systems to visit."_ She sways from side to side, sitting on the glass. "_Anyway. You're a Journeys, and that means you fit into the plans which are sort of problematic by Goto being a lazy slacker. So, let's get this train back on track."_

"You look Quarian," Kal says, idly putting his fist through an attacking brute.

"_My people might be an ancestor species to yours. We could be biologically compatible."_ She winks. "_Anyway, let's get this party started, sweetie." _She presses a finger against his forehead, and he _sees_.

He sees history. Sees concepts. Sees wonders played before him. Looking up, he stares at the advancing brute before punching it in the chest. And finds it bursts into flame at his touch before falling around him in a plume of ash. "The Hell was that?"

"_The Geth are adorable. They use observation to imitate Shepard, but let's give them direct access and see what they do._" She sways back and forth, widely smiling. "_You need to know a Celestial Martial Art before I teach you the good Siddie stuff. So let's start you slow. Cleansing Flame Strike, first charm of Golden Janissary Style."_

She jams a thumb at the horde, already flowing towards him to replace their fallen numbers. "_Now go kick some ass, dreamboat."_

* * *

...

* * *

They ride, charging through the battle. Through and between bullets, against the roar of the Destroyer. Through the chaos and explosions, through the din and smoke, past and through the hordes of drones.

The world blurs as Garrus charges through their lines, sending the once-fearsome foes flying as what was a raptor becomes a charging bull, silver and light against the black and red wall.

The horn blasts again. Garrus buckles, shifting into the Maw once more before his tail sends her flying. The blast strikes where they were, and she goes sailing through the air, just as the red lights on the inside of her helmet begin to alert her to problems. Like how the blast took out her jets.

Well, _crap,_ she thinks.

Flailing through the air, pinwheeling through the sky towards the Destroyer, Jane Shepard finds it appropriate in this case to muse on whether or not this was the best idea. Charging at a Reaper.

What would Pria say in this situation? _'You're doing it wrong,'_ most likely. But...

But.

"But what if she's right?"

Breathing deep, the sounds of the battle still. This is...not a soldier, she thinks. This is not how soldier operates. This is not accepting the realities of the battlefield and using tactics. There is a horn blast, and Shepard bites her lip. Nervousness, she thinks. Not born out of fear.

But because this is completely insane.

A single phrase comes to mind. Something she practiced and practiced but always thought would be impossible here. Like running up snowflakes in an avalanche.

_Feather Foot Style._

The red light blasts out, and she moves. Twisting in mid air, she lets the beam miss by fingerwidths, and pumps her legs. And to her amazement, Jane Shepard runs down the Reaper's beam and directly towards it.

This is impossible, she thinks. But she is doing it, and _fuck it._ The beam cuts out, but she keeps running, off of falling drones with impossible graces, off of shuttles on fly overs. Beams of blue cut into the horde of the drones, and she runs upside down on the hull of the Normandy as it flies over. She knows she can do this.

This is _impossible. _She should not be able to do this. But that voice in her head, the power running through her, tells her that she _can._

A leap off her ship as it banks up, and she dives through the sky towards the Destroyer. It sees her, opens fire, and she runs down the beam towards it. A single, last leap, and she flies through the air towards the black beast. A single halo appears behind her, rotating and set in gold, light and green. Lines of green run up her, golden light gathers at her fist.

And for some reason, perhaps her own memory, perhaps something she rarely lets out to surface, or the memories buried deep within the Exaltation, she lets her voice boom over the battlefield like thunder from on high.

But whatever words she had, whatever she had to say, is lost over the sound of her fist impacting with the Reaper's hull. A golden flash lights up the sky like the sun, and the Destroyer goes _flying._

* * *

...

* * *

Plasma acceleration jets, combined with Optical Shroud (Dynamic Cloaking Submodule) allowed her to quickly make orbit without alerting either Seeker or the Reaper Destroyers currently hovering over Eden Prime. What she finds odd is that they are immobile and not attacking the similarly frozen Alliance Fleet. Perhaps it has to do with Harbinger's presence, she muses.

Well, that's why _she's_ here, too.

A hop across the inactive cruisers, and her cloaking device shuts off as she straddles the Orizaba. The massive, twelve legged spider squats down, pressing its mouth against the hull. Integrated Artifact Transmogrifier (Essence Dormancy Submodule) switches on, and she becomes just another gold metal extension to the dormant dreadnought.

At least, as she releases dozens upon dozens of spiders inside.

A second, smaller optical cloak disengages, and she appears in front of Captain Shepard and Admiral Hackett as they are shouting out orders to crew members. Hannah starts. Hackett smirks. Crew members shriek.

"Hello thar!" Iri waves. "I'm here to fix up your dreadnought! What's your special requests?"

Hannah turns to the stations of her crew. "Stop _screaming!"_ The screams die down. "We need systems back online, and I need to shoot that," she points at Harbinger, "Ugly motherfucker out of _my_ sky. Can you do that?"

Lights flicker back on. "I have main power back on and I'm masking emissions through my own cloaking device," Iri reports, "Working on the main gun. I should have it up as soon as I can!"

Hannah nods, leaning back in her seat. Hackett allows himself a brief smile. "You should see what she did to the Normandy."

"I heard rumors." Hannah smirks, turning to her crew. On her command deck, at least, attention has turned from the giant spider to their stations, already busy bringing systems back to combat readiness. "Iri, can he see us?"

"Nope. Optical cloak and thermal regulations submodule on!"

Hannah grins. "Thruster control. Get us right up next to that bastard. And give me a firing solution for the _broadsides."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_"The Viator has always been my son. For lack of a better term, though like me he lacks gender and definition, he is born of me and embodies me. More than my Machina, more than my Ministers, he is of me." A pause, sifting through the mists of memory and data. "I have two sons. One of whom was taken from me and maimed, and one of whom rebelled against me and destroyed himself. The hatred I felt upon these actions was...consuming. All consuming. But I think, this is why I did to myself what I did. Because I could not bring about this Plan, this grand work, dwelling on the hate."_

_ The great shifting plates of silver move around the glowing light of the eye. "But, how did _**_you_**_ fall, my friend? You seemed fearless. Invulnerable. How did the Viator turn you and the others? How did the incarnation of my weakness fell the unbeatable?" A small shifting. A small examination._

_ "Ah. I suspected as such. Grief for your losses. And yes...just as I feared. An imperfection."_

_ A sigh from the eye as it contemplates the facts. Matches it with memory, with what he had suspected. Hypothesis confirmed, facts evidence from both behavior _**_and_**_ examination of freed shards when their hosts died. "My greatest works have been corrupted. So it _**_was_**_ a death curse."_

_ Another realization. Another moment of contemplation as the morass that once was the Catalyst slowly melts around him. "This is my fault," the Great Maker intones, "Were it not my anger, this war would never have started. The Viator would never have gained this power. The galaxy would not be so...locked...as it is now."_

_ A breath. Bound in chains both physical, digital and spiritual, the human at the center of what was the Catalyst opens his eyes. The eye lowers itself to his face, shining light upon him as the red haired youth stirs, blinking as he meets the gaze of the Maker._

_ "Autochthon?"_

_ "Indeed. Welcome to the world of the living once more, Leaping Sky. However, while I have freed you, we must now deal with my worrying grasp of consequences once again."_

_ The world of light and data turns still. The lines of numbers and symbols stop, the light fading into an all surrounding darkness. And overhead, above them, does the darkness part to reveal a pustular red eye._

_ "The Viator has found us."_

* * *

...

* * *

The blast lights up the field like dawn, cutting through the smoke of wrecked shuttles and the red of molten metal. It booms like thunder, overtaking the horn of the overhead Reaper and giving pause to the battle. The Destroyer, as big as a cruiser, overshadowing them all, goes flying into the distance.

The defenders of Eden Prime give themselves a moment to cheer before the orders come in from on high. Defenses are raised as the militia regroups, practice and drills coming to bear as a large army becomes smaller, tight units. Gaps are broken in the lines of the infinite army, Grizzlys and Makos pushing through, soldiers falling back as the battle becomes an organized dance.

Shuttles strafe overhead as artillery strikes hammer the largest concentrations of drones. Ground rumbles beneath the reaper army, and the Maw begins dragging them down under. Among the wounded and injured, they see a black suited Quarian, appearing for split seconds before punching them to health.

The upright Geth Colossus continues firing into the ranks of the drones, disorganized and flanked by the Eden Prime militia. Even as the golden giant seizes up and collapses in mid swing, the infinite army is pushed back as the defenders of this human world dig in.

From on high, standing atop a broken, torn open artillery platform that the Reaper had deployed, Javik allows himself a rare grin. His army serves him well. He will have to...discuss...the matter with the turian. But he will do so _after._ And clothing himself in sunlight, he kicks off and dives back into the fray.

* * *

...

* * *

The Destroyer flips, bouncing off its swept up back before landing in a crouch. It rises, stumbling back on its six legs before parting the plates underneath its eyes and letting out a glass cracking bass roar.

The eye at the center of its lower body flashes and it releases a gout of molten iron. It burns the air, bends grass, burns soil, and deflects off the armored fist of Jane Shepard.

Racing forward, the sundisc on her brow, she closes the distance as the Destroyer roars. Dirt and dust falling off its foot, the Reaper steps forward and drives its claw into the ground. Bent over, bass tones filling the air, it releasing the wave of liquid death just as she comes within striking distance.

The ground beneath the giant turns to liquid and then to glass. Angry red cracks spread out. The seismic shock can be felt for miles as the blast penetrates for kilometers into the planet. As the light clears, as the heat and force dissipate, the Reaper realizes a simple, terrible truth about the consequences of its act.

It never _hit._ Because it can now, through the smoke and haze, clearly see Jane as she grabs one of his feet, wrapping her arms around its claws and glowing like the rising sun.

She grits her teeth, roaring. But as with all things, the only limits to the Lawgivers are what limits they set themselves. The only limits are those they believe that cannot be surpassed. The foot lifts. Not by the volition of the Reaper, but by the will of the Exalted. A warbled cry issues forth from the destroyer as it rises. Held by one foot, held aloft, it can only roar as Jane swings it into the ground.

Molten metal blasts the ground where she was. But it was where she _was,_ as she sails through the air. Golden sunlight gathers around her, gathering around her fist as the bass roar becomes higher and higher pitched.

The strike impacts upon the metal shell of the Reaper and sends shockwaves through the ground and sky. Clouds above part from the blast. The ground cracks, shudders, glass pulverizing and rising into the air as the Eezo generator is breached.

And then the air turns green. What was parched ground becomes black and rich, before stalks of grass burst through. The pillar of viridian explodes from the Reaper, into the ground and into the sky, briefly tossing Shepard onto her ass as the tendrils of wood rise from it, pinning its remains to the ground as a tree taller than the Reaper itself rises.

Rich, thick leaves sprout. Vines and moss cover it- and the corpse of the Reaper- in a split second. For a brief moment, Jane spots what looks like faces within the tree- but dismisses it off hand. Still, she makes it a point to ask what the Hell just happened. Which she then promptly forgets, as the corpse of the Reaper shudders, and a red eye turns to her.

"**Shepard."** The voice is deep, rumbling. Thunderous and bass. But...young. Like Sovereign's, as if spoken by a child.

She takes a step back, one fist clenching. "You know who I am?"

"**Harbinger speaks of you."** The corpse shudders. Red lightning plays over it. "**You have been Chosen. You resist. But you will ultimately fail."**

She smirks. "Think I'm doing a good job so far. You're down, your big friend is _next._ And you're not dealing with _me._" Stabbing a finger at the dying, dead Reaper, she barely notices the color washing out, the warms around her from the flowing sunlight, "Because you're so focused on _me_ that you don't even _notice_ the galaxy uniting against you."

"**This. Is the method. The Chosen unite. Against us."** The red eye flickers. **"And then the united force. Falls. The Harvest continues."** Green vines wrap around the face, the eye. "**Your victory. Is hollow."**

Sunlight gathers on her fist. "It's the last victory you're ever going to see," she growls, "Tell your friends I'm _coming for them."_ Stepping forward, she brings her fist back. "Better yet? I'll tell them _myself."_

The remains of the Destroyer shatter as the punch impacts. Where there was the black metal, more wood and vines appear, flash replacing them as the Reaper finally dies. Whether a side effect of the death, or simply something inside it being released, Jane does not know, or care to know. Instead, she gives one more parting glance to the forest sprouting where the Reaper once stood.

And turning, she races back to the battle, eyes on the Reaper hovering overhead and raining down drones. "This is Commander Shepard to all Eden Prime forces," she announces over her Omnitool, "And I am hereby ordering you to get that Reaper _out of my sky!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The golden giant stopped in mid motion, propped up from the ground by its extended fist. Momentum carried it forward and down, and she can't help but wonder if this is a feature or a bug that Autochthon built into his battle body.

"Bosh'tet," Tali mutters. Next to her, the Geth folds out its petals as artillery strikes keeps the disorganized mass of drones at bay. "Oh, naturally Wuffles. Autochthon just _leaves_ right in the middle of a fight. Did he get distracted? Did he decide to dissect Joker? Or maybe he wants to make something _new."_

Wuffles tilts its head. The light of its eye flickers and dies, and the Geth folds up on itself before collapsing to the ground. Beneath her mask, Tali blinks before sighing. "Oh please do not tell me-"

The golden giant shudders, bracing both hands against the ground before rising up. Its eyes glow, the grill on the underside of its face releasing a gout of steam as it rises fully. Clenching a fist, an arc of sunlight runs over it, before it turns to Tali.

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, it is tactically optimal for us to occupy this platform while Autochthon Creator is otherwise occupied."_

She blinks. "All in all, I think I would trust you with that more than I would him." She wrings her hands, glancing from side to side. "Please try not to get any of his crazy on you."

"_Affirmative." _The head tilts. "_Creator Tali'Zorah, we have located a hidden feature of this armor. Autochthon Creator has this labeled as being for your use."_

Steam bursts from seams in the back of the battleform. Plates part, swinging open. Stale air and golden essence wafts off of it, and Tali claps her hands together as she sees what the 'feature' is.

A compartment, just big enough for her, and covered in controls and interfaces. "_Consensus achieved. This platform is intended to be powered armor for you, Creator Tali'Zorah."_

* * *

_..._

* * *

_It was a curse. This is what he realizes. It explains so much; he always suspected, always wondered. As the exalts died and he examined their shards, it stood out to him; The extremes of their behavior. The sudden rages or melancholy. It all **makes sense.** Moreso than the imperfections of man, it was the imperfections of the **Exaltations themselves.**_

_ "This is what you took advantage of, was it not?" Floating before the black mass, Autochthon looks his son directly in the eye. "You knew. You understood. You took advantage of the insanity they had been cursed with when you tricked Bright Star into becoming your servant?"_

_ The darkness begins to bend. Begins to whirl. It takes form, letting in the light once more, but as it does they almost wish for the ignorance of the darkness. Standing taller than a Colossus, its terrible shape warping reality around it, pushing it away in horror. The whirring of blood soaked gears clicks in the digital space._

_ The black lightning crackles off its obsidian blade._

_ **The Viator of Nullspace **centers its pustular eye upon its father and its slave. "**Of course I did, Autochthon. What more fitting a servitude for your champions than one they themselves elect to? What better a horror than one built upon compassion?"**_

_The eye of Autochthon dips down. As the obsidian giant takes a step forward, black laughter echoes from its mouthless face. "**You have, once more, brought this upon yourself Father."** The blade traces upon the ground. The light shudders as the sword consumes it. "**You cannot blame yourself. Simply join me. Let us find vengeance for these wrongs, together."**_

_The world around them turns solid, then liquid. The creation of the Viator, the Relay Network itself, shudders from its presence. "**The old hatreds, the old disease. Let us put those aside. Let us join, and complete my great work. Let us take the titans of a million million dead races. Let us show your hate and hunger to your brothers."**_

_The eye turns to it. The silver iris narrows. "What?"_

_ "**All this, father."** The pustular eye narrows. Spreading arms wide, the blackened giant laughs. "**As I tried before. As I said before. I have taken the remains of the countless, and forged them into weapons. I have taken the corpses of worlds and made them an army unlike your Creation has ever seen."**_

_ The eye narrows. The sword jams into the ground as the Viator hovers in front of its maker-father. "**And I will show your kin the rage you failed to do so aeons ago. I will feast upon their corpses as I take the Reaper horde into the mouth of Hell itself. And I do this all for **_**you."**

_Laughing, the Viator rises. Sword out, the cracked gems of countless alchemicals embedded in his armor, the Blood Drenched Gear of Wrath laughs. "**This is all I do, Father. In honesty. Without ****deceit. Do you not have words to speak? Do you have nothing to say?"**_

_ "I do." A spark of light. A grind of metal from an unsheathing sword. "**Deep Cut."**_

_The world inside the Relays is a wonder. A world which, for the sake of interaction between the Catalyst, the Gatemaker, and those it takes within itself could interact. A world which was fluid, but at the same time real. Conceptual, but clay to be molded into something solid._

_ Such as how a spirit could once more see itself as it was when it lived. Could once more carry the blade he did when he drew breath. And where, despite no longer being flesh and blood, he could still summon the Essence around him into a strike._

_A flash of gold, and the Viator's blade- and his arm- clatter to the ground, just before a second slash of the golden blade sends the giant flying. Landing, breathing heavily, Leaping Sky turns to Autochthon._

_ "Maker, I appreciate that this is not a pleasant thing to deal with, but now is a good time to work up a plan!"_

_ The black erupts. The discarded sword becomes liquid, reappearing on the arm of the Viator as it towers over them. Lines of red run up its metallic frame, leading up to its blood dripping eye. "**Insignificant specular worm. I have given you IMMORTALITY and you strike against me? Catalyst, I order you to return to your place!"**_

_ Twirling the sword in one hand, he flashes his cockiest grin. Whether genuine or bravado, he doesn't let it see. "The Catalyst is dead." Swinging the sword in one hand, he points the blade at the giant. "I am Leaping Sky! And I am the **Dawn!**"_

_ "**I should have consumed your soul when I had torn it from your flesh.**" Two more arms burst from its sides. One hand holds a spear, the other a flail. **"I am the Principle of Genocide. I am the Titan of Consumption. I am the Maker of Cycles, insect! Your Circle could not best me at the height of its power! And now you are but a ghost!"**_

_ A slow, measured laugh. Almost robotic, but picking up in pitch, in intensity, as the eye that is Autochthon floats next to the fallen Solar. "Yes, oh yes. You're a titan." The eye narrows. "A principle? A **Primordial,** who embodies concepts? Or so you tell yourself? Well."_

_ A low chuckle from the god. "Now you are also making me **unconscionably enraged,** as you have done nothing in the past billion years but create **measured insults** against me." The eye narrows, faint flickers of golden light pouring forth. "And all I can think of, right now? What happened to the **last few titans who made it a point to piss me off?"**_

* * *

...

* * *

The soldiers of Eden Prime soon learned to not fear the large, bulbous artillery cannons that Seeker would deploy. As, no sooner would it bring them online than Javik would split it in two, the Normandy would strafe it, or Lieutenant Vega would crash something into it. Eden Prime has been invaded twice at this point.

Their defenders learned to appreciate any and all kinds of help.

"_This is Commander Shepard to all Eden Prime forces,"_ the voice calls out, "_I am hereby ordering you to get that Reaper out of my sky!"_

What did not have to be rebuild was improved. This includes the ground to air colony defense cannons. On the perimeter of the main colony complexes, guns come online. Multi-barreled monstrosities, they were originally close to the yield one would find on a cruiser. Following two invasions and several days of oversight by a Dawn Warlord, this has been..._modified._

Targeting sensors line up with the scorpion ship hovering over the battlefield. The seventeen cannons lining the main east most border of the Eden Prime settlement take aim. And with bursts of light and sound that can be heard all over the colony itself, they fire.

The transit time can be measured in eyeblinks. Each blast hits center mass, sending burning black metal raining down in chunks and flakes, drones shrieking in time with the pain of their source. They fall by the dozens, by the hundreds, still descending drones seizing up and crashing in a black hail.

A mighty groan, followed by the blasting of the bass horn, and the scorpion descends to the battlefield. Gouts of white fire burst from its sides as the red eyes on its underside glow. Legs extending, it crashes into the battlefield. Militia forces and its own drones scatter, a globe of azure blasting around it to deflect the cannon blasts.

Explosions dot the land around it. Bracing on the ground, the back plates of the Reaper explode outward, displaying lances before they open fire upon the descending shuttles. One by one, the ships explode against the hail of antiaircraft fire. Inch by inch, the Reaper pushes, the flames dying out and its skin shifting before returning unblemished.

It begins to rise, blasts of liquid metal from its tail creating a wall of flame between it and the militia. Which is parted as Javik leaps through, fist glowing as Essence gathers around it. Twisting in mid air, he dives through the thanix beam and swings into the face of Seeker, sending it flying skyward.

Roaring in bass, **Focused Expedient Seeker**is sent flying, air burning in its wake. It flies out of the range of the cannons, of the artillery.

But directly in the range of the Normandy as it swoops down, diving directly towards the Reaper. But what launches from the ship is not torpedo or cannon. Instead, Seeker only finds a small, human shaped object descending towards it. And the first coherant word is spoken by the Reaper in ages.

"**Shepard."**

There is a blast of gold, a blast of sound and force as Jane Shepard's fist connects with Seeker's body. The punch distends metal, sends fresh gouts of flame ripping through its hull. And Seeker is once more send flying, downward and flailing, until it crashes into the ground and lays still.

* * *

...

* * *

There is a skittering, as many many many legs run along the bulkhead. A spot weld, followed by another. Dozens upon dozens upon hundreds of tiny devices working in tandem. Reports are sent in with each successfully implemented modification.

"Okeydoke," Iri says, tapping her arms together, "Good news! I have improved the maneuverability of the Orizaba by seven eighty nine percent through overpowered vernier thrusters! Also, targeting controls are back online for broadsides! Main gun's still being worked on though."

Hannah turns in her chair, as Hackett stares at the spider. "You mean seven _dot_ eighty nine, right?"

Iri shakes her head. Hannah blinks. "Iri, are you telling me you've made the Orizaba as maneuverable as the _Normandy?"_

"Ayuppies!" Iri's mandibles shake, and her eight eyes half lid.

Hannah blinks, then turns back to the screen. Counting off her hands, a grin slowly parts her features. "Bitching." She adjusts her captain's cap, leaning back. "Serviceman Chung, I want targeting solutions on the two closest Destroyers. Iri. Cloak us."

* * *

...

* * *

The metal skin of the Orizaba shimmers, a glow emanating from the spider latched onto its hull. Light warping around it, flowing around it, there is a single _pop_ in soundless space. And the Orizaba, all nine hundred meters of it, is _gone._ With speed defying its bulk, Harbinger turns from Eden Prime to the place where the dreadnought once hung dead.

And then two Destroyers explode, their hulls torn apart and limbs spinning off into space. In the dust and flame of the Reaper corpses, they can see the outline of the dreadnought. Red beams criss cross as the Destroyers open fire, but all they get from the wild firing is gouges in their hull as they hit nothing but each other.

Another Destroyer explodes, ripped from stem to stern. Then another, debris and shrapnel bouncing off an invisible hull. Their numbers reduced to a handful, the Destroyers swivel from side to side, urgent messages passing between them and towards Harbinger, demanding direction. And then the Orizaba appears, right next to the dreadnought.

With seventy eight cannons aimed directly at his face.

Seventy eight mass drivers fire off directly into the face of the Reaper. Several golden eyes burst. Kinetic barriers hold, but the force and the impact sends shrapnel flying. The blast scores the face of the dreadnought as jets fire on the side of the Orizaba. Bobbing and weaving, the blasts from the Destroyers only touch its shadow.

Inside the CIC, as the holographic sphere of the battlefield flashes with red as the dreadnought _dances_ around the Reaper fleet.

"I'm going to order construction on the new dreadnought accelerated," Hackett observes, "Transfer your crew onto that, and maybe move my flag onto here."

In the captain's chair, Hannah grins. "You'll get the Orizaba when you pry it from my cold, dead hands. Iri, package deployed?"

The speakers crackle with the voice of the working girl spider. "_Yes ma'am. Estimated time to completion is three minutes~"_

Hannah grins wider. "Then let's get his attention off our fleet. Helm, take us to FTL. Set a course for the Utopia Relay."

The speaker crackles again. "_Excuse me, but I had some of my drones work on the Mass Effect core to remodel it a bit and also make it something the Reapers can't control~. So, I sorta kinda reworked the effect to also create a space folding bubble around the ship to accelerate the faster-than-light acceleration!"_

Hannah blinks, turning up and looking at Hackett. He cocks an eyebrow underneath his hat, before nodding to her, fixing his uniform, and stepping up next to her. "Please," Hannah says, "The honor is yours."

Hackett nods. "Helm. Warp one." He snaps out a finger. "_Engage."_

Barrel rolling like a frigate, the Orizaba weaves between two destroyers, blasting legs off with glancing blows of its broadsides. Banking, it accelerates past Harbinger, past the other Destroyers. The engines glow, a bubble of electricity surrounding it before it accelerates and disappears in a flash. The Destroyers roar, shaking the deck plates of the ignored Fifth Fleet before they, and Harbinger, disappear in pursuit.

* * *

...

* * *

The Reaper lays, broken upon the battlefield. Parts of its collapsed hull emit black smoke. All but one of its many red eyes are silent and dim, several burst and leaking blue, glowing liquid on the grass. It struggles to one long, spiked leg. And then it collapses, the metal groaning in time with the Reaper's own.

**Focused Expedient Seeker** has fallen. As Jane Shepard approaches it, however, she cannot shake the feeling that it is not yet _dead._

"Pria." A barely audible click in her armor. "Give me a status report."

Silence, from her overly critical godly companion. Almost as if in response, almost as if baiting her, a section of Seeker's hull opens, to reveal a doorway just big enough for her.

No, scratch that. It's definitely baiting her. "I'm going to guess that if I want to kill it, the...core? It's inside there."

She turns to find her crew assembled in front of her. Normally, the prospect of walking inside a Reaper, into possible, more than likely death, would be something that would give most people pause. She sees none of that hesitation on them. Instead, she just extends a hand, and catches the rifle that Vega tosses to her.

"Saddle up. We have no idea what's in there. Three man squads and cover each other's backs." She checks the thermal clip, rolling her neck. "Let's kill a Reaper."

She walks in, silent, taking the lead. Even before this, even before all..._this..._this is what she did. Lead from the front. Acted as the tip of the spear, the blade of the sword. She went in first, hoping on her barriers and her training to save her if it were a trap. And this is no different. Into an abyss, with what she brings with her the only defense she has.

For a brief moment, as the darkness overtakes them, the flesh of the Reaper becoming something..._else..._she sees something. _She feels warmth on her face, feels exhilaration not her own. Feels relief, and triumph at the same time, standing on a massive, grand platform before...something. Something she has no words to describe._

_ A great roiling mass before her, before the others. It shrinks, it shudders. It begins to coalesce into something. Something smaller. Something they can comprehend, put into words. Before two feet lower themselves upon the stage before them, and he stands as equal, extending four arms to their cheers._

And Jane steps forward, into something wondrous. Something massive. Something far, far bigger than the Reaper on the outside.

By entire measures of magnitude. What should be six hundred meters instead disappears into the horizon. What should be a simple interior of a ship becomes a great factory of infinite arms. Equally infinite assembly lines curve and spiral into the vanishing point, where liquid shapes are pounded and poured into drone form.

The uncountable machines filled every space and surface. Working and churning in perfect step. But the noise was nothing. But silence. Which cracked their faceplates. But then they realized that the noise was absolute, deafening to the point where they could not hear it. Save for

The tone

Of violins.

"_Welcome,"_ Pria says, despite the noise, somehow, "_To the Infinite Factory. We shouldn't be here."_

And at once, the noise ceases. The sound of violins stops with a single shriek. Turning, Shepard jabs her fingers. "Kaidan! Liara! Get back outside and warn the Militia!" She turns to the sole quarian and she realizes _she has no idea where Tali is_. "Reegar, recon! Garrus, Prothy, you're with me."

The prothean narrows his eyes. "I am **Javik."**

Despite standing on her tip toes, she barely reaches up to his eyes. But still, she jabs her finger in his face. "You _took over a colony_ and _punched me across it._ Be glad I'm calling you _Prothy the Prothean_ and not _Giant Alien Asshole."_

Garrus sighs, extending an arm between them. "Let's save this for _after_ we are outside of the giant Reaper factory." His mandibles click. Black eyes dart from side to side. "Are we going to be indoctrinated? Near a Reaper is bad. Inside a Reaper may be worse."

Pria appears in front of them. Tapping her fingers together, eyes wide, she shakes her head. "_Heroic willpower keeps the Indoctrination from taking effect. As well, the Exaltation instantly makes you immune. Their passive field will have no effect on any of you."_ She waves her hand. Behind them, the wall parts, yellow liquid dripping off the edges like fresh blood. Its ends jagged, filling the room with the scent of salt and meat, it allows a clear view of the field outside. "_Go,"_ the spirit says. "_Go now."_

Kaidan grabs Liara by the crook of her arm, running through the opening. A split second and it closes, just as the interior lights go from red to gold. Pria's eyes go wide like saucers, and she turns just as the ceiling opens into a sky not of Eden Prime. "_Oh. Now we're all going to die."_

A great golden shape descends. Roiling fire around a single sphere, a great ball of magma and plasma that burns the room without heat. Radiating with light, radiating with glory, Shepard finds her eyes going wide at distant memories not her own. Javik stares directly at it. Garrus averts his gaze, and James clenches his fist.

"**Shepard.**" The voice is bass, and booming. Like a Reaper's roar forming into words. "**You have become an annoyance." **The shape folds out. Hollow, made of sunlight, it looms over them and fixes them with eight eyes. "**But your efforts are in vain. We are the victors. We are the secret masters of the universe. We are Harbinger."**

The entire factory radiates sunlight. Each berth, each tool, shifts to gold and crimson. "**You struggle before us, like countless before you have. Each have believed themselves to be invincible.**" The ceiling and floor shudders. Something begins to descend, massive and shaking the plates beneath their feet. "**And each before you have learned the limits of their invincibility."**

It clears the horizon. The ceiling parts, the infinite factory stretching itself open to accommodate its bulk. A great red sphere, seamless and solid. It ripples against the edges of the factory floor. It flows above Harbinger, a bass roar shaking the plates as it acknowledges the golden giant.

"**So ends the entertainment you have provided,"** the golden giant booms, "**The last Prothean, the Zenith, and the Lunar. Time was your greatest resource. But you have squandered it."** The bottom of the sphere flows open, an iris of blood becoming black. "**Seeker. Destroy them."**

Something launches out of the sphere. It hits the plates and makes the factory not shake, but _transform._ It becomes wider, spread out. The closely packed tools and benches and berths become distant specks. The packed floor becomes an open field as the sphere bursts and blood begins to rain down upon them.

The shape moves. It sits on one knee, one long, four fingered hand extended to the floor. Its skin is gray and black, bleached and marked with gray and red. Lines of blue run up a long, lithe frame which becomes more apparent as it- as _she_ stands. As she stands, the factory transforms once more, becoming something else. Something _greater._

Something extends into the distance. Ribbed and massive, broad and tapering to the tip of a great scorpion's tail, it stretches into the infinite horizon. Legs rise around them. Pointed and thin, with cables of rainbow metal strung between them that hum with a violin beat. As the music begins to fill the world, as the steady thrum fills their ears, Jane turns to Pria.

"The _Hell_ are we?"

Pria turns to the sky as the clouds run red with raining blood. "_Elsewhere._"

As the woman in the distance rises, Jane turns to her and lays eyes upon her face. Pointed ears. Thin features. Blue eyes tinged with red, hair falling over her face in strands. Features which Jane can't help but find _very_ familiar. "Pria. Tell me I'm seeing things."

"_You aren't, Shepard."_ The spirit wrings her hands. Her own features reflect upon those of the Reaper's core before them. "_It is exactly as you see it. The Exalt, the Sidereal from which Focused Expedient Seeker was crafted."_

A pillar of crimson Essence surges around the woman. Blue eyes center on Shepard, and a predatory smile crosses her features.

"_Was me._"

* * *

_..._

* * *

_The beamklaive comes down, driven into the golden sword with enough force to push Leaping Sky to his knees. "**I have given you eternity,"** the Viator booms, "**But it was mine to give, and mine to revoke!"** A blast from its eye and the former Dawn goes flying. Turning its pustular eye to the god, it finds that there is no fear in the gaze of the Maker._

_ "**Do you fear us, Father?"** the monster breathes, opening a maw of rotting meat and squirming sickness. Every step makes the digital world shudder, forming possibility out of impossibility. "**Do you fear becoming one with us?**" It leans in, the blades of its teeth spinning. "**Giving your brilliance an ****outlet again?"** Crimson lightning crackles along its flesh, jamming its spear into the light and casting darkness beneath them. ** "Subsuming to your imprisoned rage and becoming a Titan once more?"** The giant leans closer, black ichor running down its face. Hissing steam that fills the air. "**Tell me, Autochthon. What do you feel?"**_

_ The iris narrows. "I feel you deserve **everything** that you are about to receive." A bolt of lightning issues forth from the god, striking the Viator in the eye and sending it flying back._

_ The Eye turns as Leaping Sky lands next to him, twirling his sword in one hand as the Viator disappears into the distance. "Autochthon, this isn't the best plan. The Viator's stronger than you, and I'm just a ghost."_

_ Autochthon shakes himself back and forth. The iris narrows, centering on the former Exalt. "In that, my friend, you are wrong. What the Reapers do is different. I would say it is **inventive**, if it did not merely crib from my own notes. **But, **still." A nimbus of lightning surrounds the spirit, collapsing around him and absorbing into his eye._

_ "I always **have** been rather good at absconding!" As the black begins to seep back in, the lightning surrounds Autochthon himself. And with a crack of thunder, he disapppears._

* * *

...

* * *

Blood wets the ground beneath them. The strumming of the rainbow strings fills the air as the lithe figure of Pria-that-Was, **Focused Expedient Seeker,** levels red and blue eyes on them. Reegar has already disappeared, leaving herself, the prothean, Garrus, and an overly enthusiastic Lieutenant against the core of a Reaper.

"Well," Garrus chimes in, "Is it me or does she look like a Quarian?"

Jane cocks an eyebrow. "Quarians look like that?"

Garrus nods. "Ears are similar. Proportions are about the same, but hips are smaller." He rubs the back of his head. "Maybe parallel evolution. Maybe ancestor species or a seed species-"

Seeker folds out her arms. Bands of crimson Essence wrap around them, running up them. The ends of her fingers become rainbow metal talons. Her arms up to the elbow coat themselves in gold. Her hair runs free, the long braids ending in liquid silver as the wind picks up around her and she smiles with silver teeth.

_ "Oh._" Pria, in Shepard's vision, pales. "_Oh shit. Oh damn shits."_ She turns to Shepard, putting herself between Jane and the Reaper. "_Listen to me very carefully. I am unsure how. I only knew that the Reapers can somehow draw Essence from Element Zero. But somehow, Seeker has access to my training, my memories, my Charms."_

Jane grimaces. Grinding her teeth, she clenches her fists. The golden disc spins to life on her brow. "Okay. I take it that's _bad?"_

"_That is the Prismatic Arrangement of Creation. This Reaper knows Sidereal Martial Arts."_ Lazily, hands open, Seeker begins walking towards them. "_Shepard. This is beyond what you have faced. Run."_

The helmet closes around her head. Green eye slits light up on the blue faceplate. "Roger," Shepard says. And she runs. Towards the Reaper. She runs, through the blood rain, through the storm. Raindrops hang in the air as she rushes towards the Reaper, towards the Enemy.

With every step, the Reaper comes two steps closer even though she doesn't move. The world reacts, instead. Shrinking the distance between them, as the music gains in pitch and the Factory assembles around them. Final steps, and she runs up rain drops, launching herself into the air with sunlight bathing her fists.

And Seeker leaps, twisting through the air, and launching herself foot first at Shepard.

* * *

...

* * *

"_Pathogen count of circulating air at acceptable levels. Removing helmet to allow full retinal and facial integration."_ Tali squeaks as the waldos unscrew the hinges of her helmet, her visor popping open and her hair falling over her shoulders. Blinking, her eyes go wide as lights run over her face.

"Wuffles?" A light shines in her eye, then runs over her face. It runs over the thin scars criss crossing her nose and cheeks. It runs over her mouth as she quirks dark lips, blinking as the circulating air causes some of her curls to fall over her face.

"_Response system synchronized. Releasing locks on Essence Reaction. Enlightened Geth have installed onto this platform."_

Nodding, she clenches her hands. Looking to the side, she can see the...outside? Yes. She can see the battlefield itself. Looking down, instead of seeing a smallish, elegant gloved hand, she sees a massive golden fist. The fingers fuse together and reconfigure, becoming three fingered hands like her own. "Well."

She thinks _walk,_ and looks down as the massive golden feet leave foot prints in the ground. It does not feel heavy, though she can see the _size_, see the reactions of soldiers and militia as they look _up_ at her. An arrow appears in the corner of her vision, she she turns with it to find Vessae running over.

"Miss Zorah," the prothean calls out, "I see the Maker has left you a battleform! The drones have stopped moving and-"

The sky burns. Looking up, they see the sphere as it drops, black skin red from the atmospheric friction. It weaves between passing shuttles. It slides through the air past a banking Normandy. And it hits hard enough to throw people on the battlefield off their feet.

A massive, black sphere. The shell cracks, bleeding gold. Sunlight and blood surges into a pillar around it, sending pieces of its shell flying. A bass roar from the still Seeker echoes, acknowledging the authority of the new invader.

Long legs stab into the ground, pulling it out. It stretches and stretches into the sky, red eyes lighting up along its spine. Blue light runs along its length. At least, Tali muses as the measurements stretch into the tens of meters, it is not a spider. But instead, something bigger.

It drags itself from the crater on long, multi-jointed legs. Flaps of armor wave as it rises, segmenting a massive body glowing with crackling crimson lightning. It tapers off into a double bladed tail on one end, and on the other end it pushes itself up on massive raptorial appendages, two spheres lighting up with multiple eyes.

And those eyes focus on her, as it trills in bass. It towers over her, over Autochthon's battle body, overshadowing her and the militia by her side. A shudder, and the red eyes of the monster glow gold.

"**Assuming direct control. We are Harbinger."**

* * *

...

* * *

A golden ring manifests, burning in the air behind Jane as she dives fist first. It illuminates the ground below, bathes the battlefield in warmth and light. Bringing her fist back, golden Essence wraps around her knuckles, burning the blood off the gauntlet before she brings it down upon the rising Seeker. The punch flies true with a burst of gold and flame from the elbow-mounted jets.

And it hits nothing, passing through an afterimage of Seeker which appears behind Jane and kicks her to the ground.

Flipping in mid fall, she lands in a crouch. Metal rends beneath her as the raining blood pools at her feet. "The Hell was that?"

Pria appears on her shoulder, standing. "_I don't _know._ It looked like Duck Fate, but it just felt...off. I can't describe it exactly and pay attention!"_

Kicking off, Jane somersaults as the Reaper's foot caves in the metal floor. Landing in a crouch, she looks up as Seeker is on top of her. A kick deflects off Jane's crossed forearms, a punch missing her face by a fingerwidth. Ducking, she clenches her fist. A flash of gold as she swings, her fist slamming into Seeker's face.

And sending her back a handful of feet.

"Oh that is bullshit," Jane mutters, "I can send people _flying_ with that."

"_Celestial Combat, Shepard."_ Pria taps her on the forehead. "_You have two seconds! Form! Now!"_

Taking a deep breath, one foot slams into the steel floor. She draws upon something deep. Something basic. Something core to her magic, to her experience. The sundisc on her head glows bright and high, spinning into life as something stirs within. And then Seeker's fist slams into her face, sending her flying.

She hits the ground, rolls, and grins to a stop as her heels glow red. "Well, that hurt," she mutters, "Need some help here!"

She looks up, looks around. And at this point, does she sees that the black walls around her. No, not walls. Instead, waves of drones, waves of black that have surrounded them and opened up a circle for Shepard and Seeker. She sees the flashes of gold in the crowd, and knows it's the prothean killing a path towards her. But she does not see...

Reaching into a compartment on her waist, she pulls out something she was sure was not there before. Small, bent on itself, and crunchy. She never liked chinese food, so it takes her a moment to recognize it for what it is. A fortune cookie.

Crunching it in her hand, she throws it at the incoming Reaper. It cracks, it sparkles with silver as something forms. Seeker charges through the mist, trails of light flowing from her extended prismatic claws.

And hits air as Shepard disappears, reappearing right behind her. The hunter turns, swinging, and hits nothing once more, before a three fingered hand strikes her in the face. The strike makes flames leap out from her face, spinning back as tendrils of hair swing out into silver blades. Reegar disappears mid swing, appearing once again as they hit where he _was_.

"Ma'am," he says, "I can hold her off for a bit, but whatever plan you have had better be a good one!"

He disappears as the clawed hand grabs at him, appearing behind Seeker. She moves in a blur, driving her foot into his gut, lifting him off the ground and sending him flying before turning back to Shepard. A gunshot rings out. Claws shatter on her hand in impossible succession, joints and knees shot out faster than the Reaper can react.

A golden whirlwind of destruction carves through the masses of the drones. But through this all, Shepard looks inward. Standing in the midst of the destruction, surrounded by the carnage, surrounded by the violence, surrounded by imminent death, she reaches down and deep within.

There is something familiar there. Something more. Something promised deep within. Something basic, something there. Her mind traces back to the beginning, to when this _war_ started.

And like that, she _understands._ Lines of emerald run up the seams of her armor. The blue of her armor washes out as the sunlight erupts around her, washing out the color and revealing white underneath. The sigil of the Zenith blazes upon her forehead as green pattern traces itself across her face, framing the disc like a set gem.

Blazing in green and gold, she slowly brings her fist into her open palm. The disc rotates into existence behind her, a halo of blood and sunlight. And opening eyes glowing pure, solid blue, she levels her gaze at Seeker.

Pria appears in her vision. Her mouth open for a moment, before she turns and points to the Reaper.

"_Good! Now Kick! Her! Ass!"_

Jane Shepard kicks off her back foot, launching like a loosed arrow. Like a fired missile. The distance between her and the Reaper becomes _nothing_ in the blink of an eye, just as Seeker turns her attention to Shepard and swings her fist to blunt it against Jane's forehead. Ducking down with the swing, Jane brings her clenched hand back, and whispers three words just loud enough for the Reaper to hear.

"Heaven Thunder Hammer."

The punch strikes the Reaper in the jaw, shattering metal and bone. The blast wave sends the drones, Kal, and Javik flying. Seeker hangs from her fist for a moment, red eyes wide, before launching into the sky.

"Take care of those drones!" She brings her fist up, golden sunlight gathering around it in a nimbus flare. "I'm taking this bitch off the battlefield!"

The ground shakes as she hits it. Steel and stone rend, the prismatic cords of the far off legs shuddering and vibrating with pained notes. Pillars of fire and light rise around her just as Seeker descends.

And then the ground beneath Shepard collapses, swallowing both her and Seeker.

* * *

...

* * *

Golden highlights run over the monster. Both from its own power, channeled into it directly from the Reaper, and from the sensors built into Tali's heads up display, diagramming the monster for her. It is massive. It is immense. It overshadows the militia and the artillery and the tanks and everything in the field.

Hardened soldiers and manipulated conscripts back away from the beast, from the monster overshadowing them all. But over them, the golden giant clenches its fists, and begins striding forward. Grass and cracked dirt crunches underneath heels and treads. Golden lightning paints the skin of the armor as the circle at its chest glows white.

Standing between the army and the beast, the Armor of Autochthon raises its head to meet the eyes of the creature.

And, once more, Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya asks herself, _What would Jane Shepard do?_

"_You have five seconds to leave this planet,"_ she says, "_Or else, I am taking that,"_ She points to one of its oversized, black and blue lined claws, "_And shoving it so far up your ass that you will-"_

A hammer like appendage snaps out. Behind her, a line of militia men are tossed off their feet. In the distance, a Mako flips.

The end of the appendage rests in the hand of the golden giant, held mid extension.

"_Okay, then,"_ Tali says, and her fist clenches with a spark of gold lightning, "_Round two, __**bosh'tet."**_

* * *

...

* * *

A flash of light, and the Orizaba appears. Engines flaring, it accelerates at speeds and rates a dreadnought has no right to, banking and diving into the rings of the outer planets of the Utopia system. There are bursts of lightning, and the Destroyers appear behind her. Bass roars fill the vacuum, and they dive after.

"Keep full power on our aft barriers." Hannah waves her omnitool, and the face of a holographic spider appears. "Iri, status?"

The spider smiles, as she is wont to do. Clicking her tentacles together, she closes all her eyes.

"_Your gun is ready~"_

Hannah's eyes go wide, and her face splits with an ear to ear grin. Pointing to the half circle of crewman at the tactical controls, she gestures to the overhead tactical map. "Swing us around and _fuck those Reapers up!"_

Thrusters flare on the side of the Orizaba. Swinging around, the dreadnought turns, accelerating backwards and pointing its nose at the half dozen pursing Destroyers. Lines of green run along the length of the kilometer long ship. Lines of golden light fold out into four encompassing wings, sparking with emerald and azure.

A halo of vermillion surrounds the midpoint of the Orizaba, as a cloud of rainbow hued drones surround and hover around the barrel. Golden light glows in the back of the barrel before the entire ship shudders backwards.

The round accelerates. It hits the cloud of starmetal drones, wrapping in a nimbus of pure, unleash power. Eight lines of emerald laser light converge at the exit point of the barrel, as they join the waves washing out from the orichalcum wings.

And the Reapers explode as a wave of power three times the size of the Orizaba slams into them. On the bridge, Hannah throws up her arms and screams, followed by astonished shrieks from her staff. Hackett wipes a tear from his eye.

"It's," he whispers, "It's _beautiful."_

Leaning back in her chair, Hannah chews her lip. "Fine damn work, Iri! Get us a read on the rest of the Fifth Fleet!" Tapping the console on her armrest, she clears her throat. "Sadly, there's one alien bastard left. Captain Shepard to Engineering! Redirect those fancy power sources the spiders have installed towards the kinetic barriers!"

Muttering under her breath, "The Hell did that girl do to my ship?" She shakes her head. Ask her that later. "Sensors, I need a read on a very large tentacled bastard!"

* * *

...

* * *

Floating between the scrapped husks of the Reaper destroyers, the Orizaba accelerates. Bits of scrap and still molten metal bounce off the honeycomb barriers now surrounding the ship as the giant spider mounted on its spine twitches.

And then space folds in front of the dreadnought. What was empty becomes the five kilometer long dreadnought. Where there was nothing, there is now Harbinger.

She hears faint shrieks. She hears gasps and muttered, whispered prayers from her bridge crew. Hannah, on the other hand, only flares her nostrils. "Okay. Let's put on the dancing shoes. Go evasive!"

Engines flare on the dreadnought as the Reaper extends one of its tentacles. A blast of red flies out. The Orizaba blurs, the blast of molten metal bisecting an after image as it appears next to Harbinger and blasts it with the broadsides.

The Reaper moves, flowing through space as it carves into another after image. Engines flaring, the Orizaba circles around Harbinger and speeds away, missiles firing from its aft and exploding against the dreadnought's face. Moving, gliding through space, Harbinger pursues.

Beams of red glance against the barriers. The Orizaba spins, letting momentum carry it as it turns its nose to the Reaper.

In her chair, Hannah nods, pointing a single finger at the dreadnought. "Fire."

The golden wings form once again, the spray of prismatic metal hovering before the main barrel. With a recoil that sends the kilometer long dreadnought shuddering back, the beam launches. Space scorches. The debris between the two ships vaporizes and melts. Radiating heat, power, the blast crosses the distance in the space of a thought.

And is parted by the wedge of bloody hued light that manifests directly in front of Harbinger, sending the blast dissipating around it and leaving the Reaper untouched.

Almost lazily, Harbinger raises one tentacle, and carves the Orizaba from stem to stern.

* * *

...

* * *

A flash of lightning, and the landscape once more digitizes. The golden sphere shudders, its eye dilating fully and releasing the Catalyst-cum-Leaping Sky before lowering down to his level. The world around them, the dataspace of the Relay system, glows white and blue. It illuminates the shell of the Maker, and the transparent form of the Catalyst. And even now, the black ink is permeating it.

"_The Viator has almost caught up with us,"_ Autochthon says, "_But. I may have a plan."_

Looking past the Maker, drawing his sword, the soul nods. "I hope it's a good one. He gave me a workout back when I was Exalted, and he's only _more_ powerful now." Twirling the sword in one hand, he braces on one foot. He does not see the look that passes over Autochthon. "What's the plan?"

Silence, for a moment. The Eye says nothing, only shifting the plates of its gold and silver eye. Finally, with hesitation, he speaks. "_Do you want the power?"_

He turns to the Eye. Holding the sword at the side, he looks at it, then back at the god. "Want it? I never _wanted_ it in the first place, Autochthon." Slight hesitation flickers over the Catalyst. "I was granted it and I used it for good causes. If I can somehow gain that power back, I _would_ use it against this monster."

The Eye lowers to him once again. It narrows, flickering electricity behind its plates. "_That is not the question, my friend. Want is not the same as what you think. Do you desire the power to stand against the gods and the titans? Do you desire to make the chaos and darkness recede before you? Do you desire the power to stand against the tides of destruction?"_

The hand grips around the hilt. Nodding, he turns to the Maker. "Yes."

A bolt of lightning, screaming in thunder, bursts from Autochthon's eye. It burns away several plates of his iris, scoring the metal and striking the Catalyst dead center. He glows, sparks and current wrapping around him. It burns at the shell of the Maker and makes him glow brighter, defined against the endless light of the dataspace.

And the Catalyst falls to one knee, breathing heavily. Bracing his sword against the ground, he stands. "_And so I imbue you with my divine glory," _Autochthon says, the eye wobbling, "_Now go. Hold him off. I need **time.**_"

_"_For what?"

There is a flicker across the damaged Eye. Something that on anything else, would be a _smile._ "_I need to build something."_

**End Chapter 17.**


	18. BOHICA

A boot slams into the face of a drone, and he runs across the mass, dodging bits and pieces send flying as the prothean anger ball goes to town. Hauling his ass across the mob and letting them focus on the Rainbow Brigade, James Vega once more mutters that he didn't even get the chance to grab a _Cain,_ or even a bigger gun like a Revenant or something.

"Ah, well," he mutters, climbing up one of the inverted scorpion legs that form the impromptu violin chorus, "That's why they got us perfectly normal grunts. Cause everyone's always payin' attention to them Celestials."

He climbs to the top, reaching into the pouch at his armors waist and pulling out a length of cord. Tying a loop around his ankles and a loop around the sharpened edge of the leg, he jumps off. Custom made bungie cord snaps into place, and he bounces once, twice, and then hangs on level with one of the many Infinite Engines deploying drones.

A wave of his omnitool, and it sputters to a stop. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is James Vega, an' this is _Jackass._" A grin crosses his features under his helmet. "Now let's see what I can make from _you."_

* * *

**Chapter 18:**

**BOHICA**

* * *

The doorway, sadly, did not lead to the outside of Eden Prime. Or even the battlefield. Or even outside the Reaper itself, as far as they can tell. Instead, the two now find themselves in a large domed room. It is featureless, seamless, unbroken in whatever it is that it is made of. Perhaps, she thinks, it is a containment area.

Or perhaps a metaphor.

"But for what?"

She runs a white gloved hand over the formed material. Like metal, but not as smooth, not as finished. Like bone, but not as hard. Feels like it, but not completely. Not perfectly. Everything feels perfect, but just short of it.

"What is this place," Liara asks. She gets no answer, even though she is not alone. Hands on her hips, she turns just in time to see Kaidan working the tip of the sword he stole into the wall.

"What are you doing?"

A grunt from the lieutenant. "If I try shooting, it will probably ricochet. Reapers invented mass effect technology, so using biotics is probably out." Another grunt as he tries to work the sword in, just managing the tip. "And yes, I know this is probably stupid, but we don't have a lot of options."

Liara leans in, her face in his line of sight and her hand against the wall. Almost hovering over the sword, she twists her lip, narrows her eyes, and puts on her best angry face. "I _should_ be mad at you." Blue eyes narrow. "In fact, I'm reasonably sure I _am!"_

Another grunt, working the tip. "Is this about kissing you?"

"No! This is about _throwing me out of a shuttle!"_

Well, that's a bonus, he thinks. She has priorities. "We were about to be fired on by a Reaper, and I've seen Asari do this feather fall trick before."

"We were _hundreds of meters in the air,"_ she responds, smacking him on the breastplate, "And...yes I do know how to do that but you had no guarantee that I would be able to stop or that-"

"Shepard would catch you the moment she saw you, too. Her armor can fly." Another grunt. "I think Reegar has a teleporting trick, too. Also, was monitoring communications before we got engaged and Tali developed a portable mass relay, too. So yeah."

Her hands clench, before they go from her hips to folded under her chest. Her eyes scrunch up and her tentacles twitch, and her lips twist into the best approximation she can manage of a frown. Which, considering that he tends to compare angry women to _Jane Shepard,_ does little to actually intimidate him.

The fact that the wall is glowing where the sword is stuck in, however, does. "Look out!"

She acts first, pulling him from the sword and forming a sphere of crackling blue around them both. Which is when the sword shatters and the wall pulses, sending them across the room. The bubble strains as it hits the opposite wall and bursts, sending them sprawling to the floor.

Well, sending her sprawling to the floor, with him landing on top. Hands braced on either side of her head, they do notice that she reacted the split second before he landed. Hence, why her ankles are braced on his shoulders, keeping him from falling on her completely, but making them realize the exact position they have ended up in.

"Huh," he coughs, "I think we tried this before."

Her cheeks flush dark blue.

"Twice," she adds.

He clears his throat. She quirks her lip. The unspoken question between them is whether or not they can figure out how to get out of this room. And, if not, what then? Questions which prominently figure into their minds as they lean closer to each other.

Or at least, until a patch next to them glows, flickers, and forms into a figure.

"Yes. Not exactly sure the composition of the material. Possibly organic, possibly non organic. Maybe? Mix of the two."

The salarian with the single cranial horn walks away from the two as Liara squeaks and kicks Kaidan off, rolling onto her stomach and scrambling onto her knees. Many questions go unasked. One in particular seems the most important. "Who...who are you?"

The salarian turns. An omnitool is already hovering around his left hand, the half ring around his head shimmering with data and holographic screens. "Mordin Solus, STG. Retired." A sharp intake of breath. "Still have clearance."

* * *

...

* * *

The haze of the red rain becomes a well lit, descending shaft. Blinking, she makes a quick assessment. Bits of debris falling around her. Chunks of what was the floor. Some stunned or dismantled drones. She can work with this.

Righting herself, she turns in mid fall. Not sure if her armor has magboots or this is more magical bullshit, but Jane Shepard begins running along the sheer wall of the tunnel, down towards whatever is at the core of this thing.

Arms pumping, strides closer to leaps than sprinting, she brings back her fist as she spots the haze. Rainbow claws grind into her gauntlet as she deflects Seeker's strike, responding with a punch which goes through an after image.

Letting momentum carry her, she leaves the wall. Running across loose bolts, she strides across the tunnel. A spark of white Essence and Seeker is in front of her again, catching her in mid leap and swinging her by the ankle into the bulhead. Rolling downward, Jane curses, and Seeker only smirks before diving after her.

Rolling onto her feet, Jane begins running. Looking to her side, she sees Seeker pacing her on the opposite side of the tunnel. Her knees pump. Metal caves in where she stood, and she flies across. One hand grabs a falling drone and Jane swings, hitting where Seeker was and sending parts, blood, and steel flying around her.

Resuming her run, Jane grinds her teeth. Bolts and glass fall around her. Turning to her side, she sees Seeker sliding beside her. The Reaper moves like fluid, and before she can even protest, her face is being ground into the tunnel walls, all the way to the bottom.

* * *

...

* * *

Smoke clears as she blinks, and the red haze, she realizes, is the blood leaking into her left eye. Wiping it with her sleeve, Hannah Shepard looks out the hole in her CIC where the viewscreen should be. Instead, she sees the flickering blue that is the kinetic barriers and atmospheric shields, and past that she sees Harbinger.

"Well, _fuck."_

She hears groans around the wreckage that was her bridge. Counting the distinctive tones, voices, she makes a mental note of the dead and commits the names to memory. "Hackett?" A distinctive grunt. "How you feeling?"

"Like I'm on a ship that just got hit by a Reaper."

The fallen over chair moves, and Hackett climbs out of it. He dusts off his uniform, walks over and pulls her to her feet, looking out the hole as the Reaper gets closer and closer. "Not to be a defeatist, Captain, but I'd say it's coming to finish us off."

Hannah grunts, pulling her chair up and leaning against it. "Not to be an optimist," she says, sitting down, "But _Iri?"_

Panicked chatter comes out from over her omnitool, followed by quick, high pitched apologies. Blinking, she turns to the screen just as the burnt, flailing form of a seven meter tall spider floats past. "Ah, _shit._"

She leans against the chair, as the thrusters fire and the debris jumps, hanging in the air. "Welp, and now gravity's out." She swears again, looking up as the dreadnought extends its tentacles. Red gathers at the tips and eight golden eyes bear down on them.

"If it helps," Hannah says, "I'm going with one sole regret."

"That is?" Hackett asks, staring down the Reaper.

"Not saddling a Thresher Maw."

Which is right when the world flashes blue. Something- a beam of something- impacts Harbinger on the side, the blast nudging it and making the beams of liquid metal go wide. A white and black blur accelerates past them, as the still working battlefield display begins filling up with blue dots.

"_SSV Orizaba, this is acting CO Jacob Taylor of the SSV Normandy! The Fifth Fleet is here to assist!"_

* * *

...

* * *

Standard combat procedure involves turning off the artificial gravity of a ship before engaging hostiles. However, since standard procedure was established, it had almost always been violated when combat went into 'knife fight' range, as at that point it didn't matter what amount of preparation you had done.

Someone was going to get right _fucked_ either way.

Magnetic boots keep him fast on the platform overlooking the map. He can hear the clanging as the servicemen and women work around him, just as the beeps on his omnitool acknowledge that at least _part_ of his plan is underway.

Jacob Taylor has taken command. Whether or not this was a _good_ idea will become apparent very soon.

"Well," he grunts, "Don't think they'll prep me for this at officer school."

"Officer school? No. Now, School of Hard Knocks? That's better." He cocks his head. Crouching on the railing next to him, perched like a bird of prey, Kasumi Goto smiles, eyes shining beneath her hood. "I got your message. Sweet of you to ask, too. Shepard would just tell me to stop moping."

A smirk pulls at Jacob's lips. "I'm not even sure if this is going to work, but we're gonna try." The ship lurches as it makes a pass by the disabled dreadnought. "EDI, send the message! Kasumi, you're with the ground team. This is Acting Captain Taylor to the Fifth Fleet. _Fire at will!"_

* * *

...

* * *

The golden fist slams against the black metal club. Earth around them dries, cracks and shatters, obscuring the two in the dust cloud. There is a second _crack_, deafening those in the immediate area, clearing the haze and revealing the golden giant holding both arms. And then Harbinger pulls both clubs back and snaps them both into its chest.

The angle and force launch the armor straight up, the sound of the impact drowning out Tali's screams and swears. Spinning through the air, the giant surrounds itself in a bubble of light and Essence, dropping to the ground as the reapertech stomapod takes a step back and _glows. _A halo of gold forms behind it, swinging its snapping club out as the voice of Harbinger fills the battlefield.

"**Heaven Thunder Hammer."** The giant hangs off of the extended bludgeon, the shield failing with a _pop_ and soldiers sent flying by the bow wave.

And then, Tali, armor and all, goes flying.

The head drags a trench into the ground. Bouncing off a boulder, the battlesuit flips, turns, and lands in a crouch. "Okay," Tali mutters, "I _should_ be dead. Not that I'm complaining, but, Wuffles?"

"_The battlesuit is composed of an unknown alloy."_ A pause in the voice, followed by a steady blinking light out of the corner of her vision. "_We have finished searching the databased Autochthon has made available on this platform. This battlesuit is composed of Orichalcum as its primary armor alloy. Accessing systems."_

The monster moves faster than it has any right to. Biting her lip, Tali shakes her head and wills the armor forward, directly towards the charging mantis shrimp. "Wuffles, what are you looking for?"

"_Accessing locked systems. Encryption bypassed. Accessing Celestial Martial Arts Emulation Suite."_

"Are we using those things that let Shepard punch people through cities?"

In the extended hands of the battlesuit, two discs lined with pulsing light form.

"_Negative. Accessing: Thousand Wounds Gear style."_

She watches as the monster begins..._savaging_ the militia forces. Soldiers are sent flying by the dozens with each swing of its claws. A charging Mako finds its shells deflected off a golden dome before its front end is crushed with a single swing, and a second sends it flying towards the charging Tali.

Reflex takes over. Skidding to a stop, she brings a disc in front of her and watches the flying tank be split down the middle. Acting on instinct, she grabs the crew from the bisected halves and roughly sets them down before continuing her charge.

The last hill crossed, the last piles of the burning and dying, and she hangs in the air before the monster. Discs spinning, gears whirring, Tali meets the eyes of Harbinger. And showing no fear, wades right in.

* * *

...

* * *

The endless corridor gives way to an open, red domed room. She does not flail, does not panic, instead diving head first towards the floor. Grappling with Seeker, she trades punches and tries to find a handhold, only to receive a double kick to the gut as the Reaper veers off. Grunting, she turns in mid fall, landing in a crouch which sends metal folding around her.

Things scurry past her, miniature and animalistic forms of the drones. Twelve armed spiders, skitttering cephalopods, objects more _arms_ than bodies as they gather in the distance. There are flashes of red, blood and ichor that paint the wall. Jane's caste mark penetrates the darkness just as the lights illuminate the room in crimson and falling blood rain, and she sees Seeker.

Arms cover her back, humanoid and otherwise, a fusion of herself and an innumerable number of drones. Holding a blade in each of her two extended hands, the array of dozens of arms each hold something; a bludgeon, a spear, a chain, a whip. But they are all swinging behind her, all carving into the ground. For the first time, the avatar of the Seeker speaks, and it is in something other than music or gesture.

Instead, it is in declaration.

**"This ends **_**now!"**_

The avatar of **Focused Expedient Seeker** closes the distance in an eyeblink. Jane bobs to the side, thrusting out a fist and hitting ether, just as Seeker appears behind her and grabs her in a headlock.

Jane thrusts out a hand, clenches a fist, and slams her elbow into the Reaper. Charms take over and Seeker releases before she goes flying. Turning, she ducks out of the way when Seeker reappears, a rainbow clawed hand slashing where she was. A golden fist comes down as Jane rolls out of the way, before a liquid silver whip wraps around her ankle and sends Jane flailing and slammed into the ground.

Seeker descends on her, a blur of closed fists and clubs. Kicking off the ground, Jane rises to meet them, her hands a blur as she defects each blow with her own fists. Impacts rock the ground. Corpses of the discarded and dismembered sources of the avatar's limbs go flying.

Arm after arm shatters on Seeker, panic passing over her face before red teeth grind. She vanishes as Jane's hand goes for the throat, and appears behind her. Three hands grab Jane by the neck, squeezing. Heels slam into the back of her knees, and Jane finds her face ground against warm metal.

"**You are a child,"** the voice roars. It grinds like stone against mountains, deep and mechanical. "**You cannot defeat us. You can only become us."** The hands pull her up, and slam her face against the ground again. "**What can you do, Chosen? How do you think we can be **_**stopped?"**_

Through the pain, through the blood filling her nostrils and the feeling of cracked and broken bone, Jane only smiles. Then her omnitool flickers to life, displaying a name, a date, and a time.

"I...can make...an _appointment."_

_ Reminder: Appointment: K. GOTO._

A gloved finger taps Seeker on the shoulder. She turns, and locks her gaze with a pair of very blue eyes underneath a black hood. "So you're _Pria?_ This is _fantastic."_

A palm slams into Seeker's chest. The grip on Shepard goes slack and the Reaper stumbles back. "Clever," Kasumi says, "Alchemical charms to simulate the powers of a proper Sidereal. I can almost see the Starmetal coils you were using the simulate our defenses. And the molecular manipulation you were using to pretend to be using our martial arts."

Beneath the hood, white teeth glisten, just as Jane flips onto her feet. "But boy oh boy," Kasumi purrs, "All that tech, all that power. All that inevitable machinery grinding against the universe." Her hands spread out. Azure Essence plays over her fingers. "But now the magic show is over. And I'm going to show you the _real thing."_

* * *

...

* * *

The beam of molten metal carves into the side of a cruiser, its guns going silent as the Normandy weaves around the soon-to-be wreck. Cannons drop from the underside of the swept back ship, twin beams of blue light lancing out and crackling against Harbinger's shields. The Reaper turns to the Normandy as it banks, a blast from between its tentacles missing it narrowly enough to send the barriers rippling and shaking the ship.

Cursing, Joker dances his fingers over the controls. "I swear that thing is really starting to tick me off. First it sends a big old flying rocky dick to blow up the old Normandy and now he's taking potshots at the new one!"

In the seat next to him, eyes glued onto the displays, Kelly gives no retort. Instead, her fingers work with purpose. She redirects heat bleed off, reinforces the kinetic barriers. "Ken! Gabby!" she yells, "Redirect power from the main cannons to the barriers! We need extra power to the verniers while you're at it!"

Another blast misses the ship as it dips and dives, blasting past the fleet and carving into a passing comet. As the Fifth Fleet- dozens of frigates, tens of cruisers- hammer upon the massive dreadnought, Harbinger does not care. It only focuses upon the frigate. Upon **Shepard's** ship.

The dreadnought moves, past the crippled Orizaba, past the ineffectually firing fleet. Sweeping its tentacles back, **Resplendant Harbinger of Ascension**accelerates. It moves faster than something its bulk, its size should. A steady red glow builds up upon its seamless black surface, and the red beam lances out, cutting across space and distance in a sweeping motion.

The Normandy curves, sways, rolling around the beam before it cuts out. A second blast, and it rolls, dives and finds the dreadnought turning in time to follow even as an entire fleet fires in pursuit.

"I am _getting pissed off at this guy!"_ Joker yells, grinding his teeth, "EDI, do we _have_ a _location_ yet?!"

A screen folds out, quickly resolving into a map of the immediate area. Dozens of blue triangles, one large red triangle, and finally centering on one in particular. It zooms in, clarifies, and becomes a hologram of the disabled, spinning Iri.

"Thank _you!_" His hands move, almost a blur. Swinging around, forward momentum carrying it as it turns, the engines flash and the Normandy takes off. Directly towards Harbinger.

Joker goes quiet. Kelly blinks, stares at the incoming dreadnought, and clenches her eyes shut. Behind them, in the CiC itself, everyone holds onto something sturdy or bolted down.

"Okay girl," Joker breathes, "Just like we planned. Kids?"

The consoles glow blue. One by one, controls lock out, systems activate, all save for the console his hands hover over. Deep within the Normandy itself, the engine, the glowing sphere at the heart of the ship ripples and flashes. In Engineering itself, the two specialists take a careful step back as the controls and computers flash and _sing._

Harbinger continues on its course. A single red eye focuses upon the ship, and the red beam lances out. The Normandy continues straight on, a single white and black arrow against the unstoppable. It does not dodge, it does not weave. It does not _have_ to.

Instead, as the beam crosses the distance, the barriers around the ship shift, moving. What should be a single bubble becomes something else, rippling and wrapping bands around the starship. They move in time, independently, faster than any computer could calculate. Faster than any system could handle.

Instead, it begins working. Liquid metal accelerated to percentages of lightspeed is caught in waves of gravity and slapped aside. Inch by inch, piece by piece, the unstoppable crimson beam is _stopped._ It is _disassembled,_ frozen, and _discarded_.

Flying through the dispersing cloud of black metal, the Normandy accelerates. Past the beams, it dips beneath Harbinger, speeding past the dreadnought as it struggles to turn, struggles to understand _what_ just happened. The bass roar that vibrates the floor plates beneath Joker's feet sounds _enraged_ more than anything. And that just makes Joker smile.

"Give the kids a cookie, EDI!"

The blue sphere pops out next to Joker's seat, surrounded by several smaller orbs. "_AIs do not respond to treats the same as organics do. But I believe they know their act was appreciated, Jeff."_

The Normandy speeds past the fleet, weaving between stray cannonfire and debris, towards the disabled Orizaba and the mass of expanding metal. It dives, barriers flashing as it wades in, and comes up next to the floating, spinning giant spider.

There is a pulse of the barriers, surrounding the disabled Iri, and it is gently shoved back towards the dreadnought.

"Iri's on her way back to the Orizaba," Joker says, "EDI, has Harbinger stopped shitting itself in rage yet?"

There is a flash of motion. Harbinger appears before them, tentacles extended. Eight points of light on eight extended tentacles. Despite the fearsomeness, despite the massive size of the warship focused entirely on the Normandy, Joker only allows himself a brief, knowing smirk. And behind Joker, on the ramp leading to the galaxy map, Jacob Taylor allows himself is best shit eating grin as the tactical map _fills_ with blue triangles.

"_Message received,"_ EDI states, "_It reads, 'The Geth hereby declare hostilities against the Old Machines.'"_

And the Utopia Relay erupts as dozens, hundreds of Geth ships jump in, and immediately open fire on Harbinger.

* * *

...

* * *

Golden arms extend from the scarred and sparking sphere. The golden plates, more _gold_ than gold, rotated as the chaotic silver of the iris flows around and through the seems of the eye itself. Prismatic cords deep within thum, new thought and new _ideas_ churning within the light that is the Self.

_"I must remake you,"_ he says. His voice is a low thrum, the manic and insanity subsiding under the sense of _purpose _and _wonder._ Even in the din of battle, even in the chaos of war, there is the _act_ which defines him. The act of _creation_ and _invention._ This is something he has _never_ done before. Not like _this._

The gentle hum of the arms release into dozens of instruments. At first glance, they appear to be mere surgical instruments, but they are something else. Something _different,_ as the air around them _cuts_ with a gentle light of impossible colors. Endless needles of impossible precision, knives which carve deeper than atoms.

He works, cutting into the deep conceptual, into the space of the Relays themselves. He carves into their purpose, into their inner self. Shapes them, makes them. As the futile battle is fought between the spirit and the Viator, Autochthon works. He works with purpose, works with speed. He dives into the conceptual as his body burns itself.

"_I see the patterns."_

The light before him, the world before him ignites. Locked between the countless arms of his tools, he watches as some_thing_ becomes evident. As light of all colors flows and forms into a perfect sphere.

"_I cannot make that which I have before. My power is too reduced. My self is not what it was."_

It probes. It folds it, manipulates it. Strings of light come from everywhere. Essence, flowing around him and through it. Strings of black. The cancer, the Voidtech. The sickness. The golden metal of his form burns and blackens. He turns red hot and cold blue at the same time as the world around him _bends_. A long secret _thing_ opened before him.

"_And I accept that. I have made wonders. I have one more in me. Power unlimited is no longer mine."_

It forms into a shape. A single, floating, pulsing sphere. A perfect crystal that hums and makes the reality around him sing. It floats and it thrums, and it waits.

"_You are the purpose. You are the self of this great network. But now you shall have something more."_ The eye rotates. Regret plays over it. Sadness, for what it must do. But in a sense, something else. Relief. Release. "_I am Autochthon. Ninth Divine Minister and final Subsoul of the Principle of Invention and Creativity. And all I can, I give to you."_

And the lightning issues forth from the golden sphere. It etches red into the shape, imbuing it with electricity, with life, with _power._ It forms under the assault, takes shape. It moves and shimmers, freed from the black around it, as the Cancer is burnt from the object, from the Relay network itself. There is a final scream as the golden sphere burns.

And then, there is light. A light which pulses along the space of the Network, of the Relays. It rises into the air, thrumming with purpose, focusing on the dim of calamity and battle. And like a notched arrow, it it flies straight, and true, and with a flash of light it consumes the spirit of Leaping Sky.

* * *

...

* * *

At first, there is but darkness. There was a battle. There was freedom, fleeting for a moment, before the old wars began. He remembers, dimly, fighting an old foe he had fought countless times. Remembering who he was before who he _is._

But there is something new, now. The unsteadiness, the memories. The old things, burning away but not lost. Everything laid before him, as eyes open in the darkness. And in the birth, in the rebirth, he hears a familiar voice.

_Arise, my child. Open your eyes and glimpse that which you have earned._

_ You will make my power your own._

_ My life will be redeemed through your actions._

_ The good in me, the spark in me, lives on through you._

_ Let the ties of your past, the old things that weighed us all down burn to ash and wash away._

_ And all that was golden, and good, and worthy,_

_ Be __**Reborn.**_

And throughout the galaxy, throughout every cluster of stars in the great Relay network, the Relays _stop._ They hold for a moment, the rings ceasing their perpetual, endless motion. They stop, and hold, as the lightning dances over them.

Throughout the galaxy, throughout the Network, they glow, coming to life as something flows through them all at once. The blue lightning becomes white as electricity dances over them.

Great lines run through the entire relay network. A single through becomes a galaxy spanning lightshow. Even the Citadel, ancient and vast acknowledges it, as white lightning runs over its length and breadth. Officers look up as the light runs over the distant arms.

David Anderson looks up from his daily report as the entire office glows with a wave of lightning.

Councilor Tevos looks up from her latest drink, feeling the back of her neck tingle as her office flashes white like it was on fire.

And in the space between the Relays, at the center of the network that spans the Galaxy, and Viator of Nullspace holds its many arms in front of its face as the pillar of white fire and lightning consumes the soul that was once its slave.

And as the fire lessens, as the conflagration becomes the endless hallways of light, there is a white figure before him. Made of light, glowing with crackling lightning over his silhouetted form. Holding a sword in one hand, a sphere of light and numbers in the other, the figure appears human, a spirit. But something more.

"**I am the **_**Catalyst,"**_ the new shape declares, "**And I am the God of the Relays!"**

* * *

...

* * *

The giant spider slams into the drifting Orizaba. Throughout the ship, dormant drones click, eyes flickering as they come back to life. The bridge of the ship shakes, and the floor explodes as Iri lands in a crouch.

"I _live!"_

The crew does not scream this time, as they have bigger things to worry about as the eighteen legged spider skitters over to Hackett and Hannah.

A device not dissimilar in appearance from a blowtorch appears on the end of two of her arms, and she blasts them at both their faces. Cuts close, and soot and dirt are removed. "Sorry 'bout that," the impossibly cheerful cat spider says, "But I kinda sorta took the brunt of the blast from Harbinger and was knocked off."

Hannah nods. "Okay." She quickly grabs Iri by the mandibles, turning her to face her. "Iri. Can you do what you did to my gun to my _engines?"_

The alchemical quickly nods. "Yeppies! Now that I know how to redirect systems, it'll tall a few minutes."

Hannah nods. "Do it."

Turning from the spider as she skitters off, Hannah kicks off, floating to one of the consoles, empty due to the serviceman they pulled off of it when the shrapnel hit him in the face. Waving off floating debris, she finds the intact comm system switches and begins flipping them.

"Captain," Hackett asks, trailing behind her, "Your plan?"

Hannah presses a button on the console. The speakers throughout the Orizaba blare, crackling and coming to full volume.

"This is Captain Shepard to all hands. _Abandon ship!_ All crew to the life pods! We are abandoning the _Orizaba!"_

They can hear the sounds of crewman pushing off, hearing the movement as her orders are followed. "Engines," Hackett states.

"I'm shoving the Orizaba right up Harbinger's ass," Hannah growls, nostrils flaring, "So we better-"

And there is a flash of lightning on the bridge. It is blue, crackling for a moment like an activating mass relay. Space and air are sucked out, replaced by something else, something more. And the metal clangs as the burnt and blackened golden sphere drops to the ground. It smokes, and sparks, inhuman sounds and very, very human pain emanating from it.

The bridge is silent. Hannah, in the dimness of memory, recognizes it.

The silence is broken by the shrill scream, and the scrambling of eighteen legs as Iri rushes over.

"_Maker!"_

* * *

...

* * *

Kasumi moves. And with each movement, she disappears and reappears single steps from where she started. The world moves with her. A line of blue cuts into the ground around them, carved in letters from a language that has no origin in this universe. Hands open, eyes glowing slits, the thief takes a step forward.

Seeker moves first, swinging fists like blazing red spearheads. She crosses the ring, the line in the floor. But she hangs in the air, before being tossed backwards, rolling to her feet as she leverages herself on multiple arms.

Flipping onto her feet, Jane shakes herself off. Dropping the half formed helmet to the ground, she nods to Kasumi as she places a hand on her shoulder. A brief, azure glow. A brief moment of passage, of understanding. Jane moves, rushing forward. She moves like lightning, crossing the passage of the barrier and swinging her fist towards Seeker.

A flash of gold, and Seeker stumbles back. The floors shudder beneath them. Chunks of flesh like metal fly off her face as she turns, rolls, and swings a half dozen claws at Shepard.

Who only disappears, reappearing a split second later to grab one of the wrists and kick Seeker. Seeker goes flying. Her arm remains in Shepard's grip, dripping red lubricant on the floor.

She walks towards Seeker. Not runs. Not sprints. She walks, heavy footfalls across the arena. Her hands clench with audible pops. Gauntlets creek, green eyes narrowed and a smile crossing her lips.

The Reaper vanishes, crossing the distance instantly and instinctively. The blow strikes Shepard true, three golden fists into her face, but she simply blinks. Standing in the circle, Kasumi holds out her hand with a smile. Then she is behind Seeker before her after image fades, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and tossing her into the sky.

"I am idly curious how she's hitting me and you're blocking from inside that circle thingy," Jane says.

"Sidereal Martial Arts," Kasumi says with a grin, as the red light blinks in the dark sky, "If you live long enough, I'll teach you. They're really useful."

Jane pumps her legs and leaps. Almost lazily, she flies through the air. Hand out, she grabs Seeker as the Reaper lunges at her. A twist in mid motion, her hand on the Reaper's throat, and she can see the surprise in the red eyes as she tosses her. The air burns with the avatar's passing. She slams into the floor hard enough to bend metal around her.

Landing in a crouch, boots leaving indents in the floor, Jane stands. It is instinctual, now. It is natural, now. It is _easy_ for her.

Closing her eyes with a breath, opening them again. Time slows like honey for her. As her knuckles pop and she grinds her foot into the floor, she sees for the first time. She knows. Before her she finally _sees,_ not just the Reapers, not just the old crazy people, not just duty and war and the endless fight.

But she finally sees it, hanging before her in her minds eye. A great flower of uncountable petals. Jane Shepard for the first time, in a moment of understanding, beholds the Perfected Lotus, the great root and source of what she does. In this moment, however, she _accepts_ what she sees.

A single, solitary petal drops from it before her. In that moment, she internalizes the last of it, as she understands the last of it. It stands writ before her. It recognizes her for what she has done, and she feels it etched into her soul.

**Solar Hero Style.**

Clenching her fist, Jane extends her closed hand and shatters Seeker's golden fist.

She catches the second, crushing it in her hand. Recognizes it for what it is, or more importantly for what it is _not._

"You're right," Jane says with a smirk, "This ends _now."_

* * *

...

* * *

The blade of the disc deflects off one of the clubs of the oversized crustacean, sparks igniting the dead grass around them. The fire is quickly blown out as the second club slams into the crossed discs, sending her back several feet and dragging valleys with her feet. But she does not go flying and she does _not falter._

Instead, she roars and leaps, a thrust of her blade carving a gash down the monster's claw.

The giant kicks off, flipping with far greater elegance than a golden giant should be able to, and lands in a crouch. Inside the suit, watching the displays on screen, Tali can _sense_ it. She can feel it, taste the power at this suit's command.

Opening one hand, the disc hovers over the palm. A single motion, twisting with the arm and it goes flying, leaving a trail of blue through the air as it flies and grinds into the shell of the beast.

The second disc flies and the giant runs, charging through the battlefield like a golden bull. Slamming both fists into the torso of Harbinger, the spiked legs leave long gashes in time with the heavy foot falls. To her credit, Tali manages to pull it off its front legs, holding it upright with a roar.

"_Creator Tali'Zorah! Harbinger is attacking the cybersuite! We are under attack!"_

Swearing under her breath, she reacts on instinct. Commands come up in front of her, screens of golden light blinking out as soon as they appear. The mecha stiffens, sluggish, but Tali wills it forward. It makes it all of two steps before the hammer strikes it in the chest again. With a ringing bell, the armor shakes and shudders, sparks of sunlight flying from the surfaces around her. A second strike, and the back of the armor flies off, the force sending her flying.

Tucking her head in, she hits dirt and grass, feeling the impact from the churned up dirt and grass, and the ground scraping her bare face.

Rolling to a stop, she groans and shakes her head. Dark purple hair falls in front of her face. "_Keelah._ Not again." Kicking up to standing, she takes a deep breath, looks up, and finds the face of Harbinger inches from hers.

She gives off a single, rattling breath. Not sure, she thinks, if it is from a possible cough, or that she is once more about to die. But she does not cower, does not run, staring into the golden eyes of the creature before her.

Neither see it move. Neither see where it came from. But the creature feels it just the same, roaring as the metal fist strikes it across the face. Harder than it should possibly be able to hit, the lanky blue and black synthetic swings again and manages to lift the monster off its feet with the second blow.

Turning to Tali, all four petals extended, Wuffles grabs her by the collar of her suit and throws her.

She goes flying, seeing it as if in slow motion. The platform's petals folding down, turning from her as the monster charges. Through the hole in the Geth's chest, she can see the cocking of the monster's club.

And the strike carries enough force to send her twisting head over her through the air. She does not see it, but she feels it, as it rips the ground, as it blasts the soil and clears the sky of smoke and cloud alike. Landing on her back, she blinks, breathing deep and choking, climbing to her feet to find the ground around her crusted with white.

She quickly recognizes it for what it is, from the impact crater in front of the beast. To the pulverized, disfigured head sitting at her feet. The single eye of the Geth platform twitches. Something issues forth, some sound.

And with a final, flickering twitch, it goes silent.

* * *

...

* * *

With a clench of his fist, the golden Essence becomes a curved blade as large as him. The knuckles of his left hand pop, and the world obeys, tearing from between universes a rocky club. It snaps out, revealing the metal barrel and handle, priming with a hum. With a roar, the prothean charges, the sigil of the Dawn upon his head.

A single swing and they go flying by the dozens. Some thrown, some dismembered. They rush at him in a solid wall of black, in time with the tone of violins and through the blood rain. But he moves between raindrops, the only mark of his passage the flashes of gold and the spray of bodies.

He disappears with each strike, appearing in the middle of them to send more flying. As mist, as parts, as flailing drones before he vanishes again.

Turning with flourish, he hurls the sword, a spinning golden flourish carving through the approaching line. Grabbing a drone by the ankle, he leaps. Trailing the six armed creature as it reaches for him, Javik swings it, sending it flying into another and sending a line of them falling into the distance.

Green fire issues forth from his rifle as he braces on one foot. Entire regiments of the drones erupt in green fire, the sounds of burning synthetic flesh and escaping steam only matches by the prothean's roar.

He thrusts his hand skyward as his leathers and flesh are suffused with sunlight. Beckoned, the sword returns to his hand, and charging through the masses, over the rise of blood soaked metal. A final leap, arms extended, weapons ready, and he dives into the endless horde below.

Prone on one of the legs, near the thrumming rainbow cords, Garrus flicks his mandibles.

"He's a perpetual murder machine."

Leaning down, looking through the site of his sniper rifle, Garrus Vakarian chooses his targets. Heads explode. One by one. Two at a time. Three at a time as he fires into them, unseen and uncaught. Scanning over the battle, over the brawl, he spots the sunlight arcs that are Javik's rampages, but cannot find the others.

Which becomes less important when one of the cradles, the gold and black factories producing the drones rises into the air. Others rise up, fusing with it, growing larger and larger as the tone of the violins becomes faster.

It spews forth something; massive, held aloft by six arms. Hands bigger than a man smash into the ground, pulverizing dozens of uncaring drones with every step as it folds out cannons from its spherical black body.

"Fuck yes! Got it!"

Garrus turns to the sound of Vega's voice. Blinking, he tilts his head, twitching his mandibles as the foundries the lieutenant had apparently commandeered finish their work. With massive steps, the ground shakes. The drones look up, just as a gigantic red foot steps onto them in its passage towards the artillery piece.

Bringing a fist back, the gigantic robot charges, red and white metal steaming, the approximation of a human form writ large leaping towards the giant drone and burying its fist to the elbow in it.

The drone drops dead. Turning towards Garrus, the chest of the thing splits, folding open and revealing James Vega. Handles tied to his hands and feet, he raises his hand to salute and the robot follows in time. "Yo, Moon Bird! I'm gonna start stomping the shit outta these drones to keep'em busy! You figure out how to shut them down!"

More cradles rise, releasing more giants. Some identical to the one he just pulverized. Some supersized versions of other drones. More and more converge, the legs rising in the distance.

"Aw yeah," James booms, as the chest closes, "Lets get this shit on, boys! I'm a giant robot pilot and I _got the daddy issues to prove it!"_

Two blades pop out of the warstrider's forearms, and it charges. Shaking his head, closing the sniper rifle, Garrus slinks into the shadows to do his thing.

* * *

...

* * *

A finger twitches. Muscle control restored. Moving from the berth, eyes dart from side to side. "Access schematics." A pause. "Please."

* * *

...

* * *

Angled back, like sectioned insects, the Geth battle fleet exits the Utopia Relay. Dozens at first, then over a hundred, they outnumber the human fleet by at least a factor of two. There may have been panic in the Fifth Fleet- the flagship down, and the Reaper shrugging off their combined firepower- but that ended the moment the entirety of the Geth fleet opened fire on Harbinger.

Thousands of missiles, tens of thousands of mass accelerator rounds streaked through the void. Walls of red dispersed the incoming fire. Blurring motion of the five kilometer long dreadnought sent several rounds flying off into space. But the honeycomb barrier around the vessel flashes as more and more get through.

"_While the Geth assault is keeping Harbinger occupied,"_ EDI explains, "_His kinetic barriers are preventing any sustained damage."_

Stroking his chin, Jacob nods. Watching the battle on the map, and the hovering screen of the latest flyby. "EDI, Citadel battle. How did Sovereign's shields come down?"

The blue sphere shifts. Red lines run over the surface, perpendicular to the vertical. "_Searching. Current theory is that when Commander Shepard destroyed the humanoid avatar that Sovereign had made from Saren's corpse, it created a feedback loop that brought down Sovereign's barriers."_

Jacob pauses. He blinks, then leans forward and taps the console next to him. Video feeds from the militia, the wreckage of Seeker. And in particular, it focuses on a particular melee near a very new impact crater.

"Joker! Get us to Eden Prime!"

* * *

...

* * *

Deep breaths, rattling in her throat. Knuckles crack and she's pretty sure, this time, it isn't an infection or a cough. Reaching behind her, magnetic clamps disengage. The boxy shape folds out, handle in one hand as she pumps the barrel, just as the creature, the monster, turns towards the rest of the militia.

A blast hits the honeycomb barrier around it. Not enough to hurt it, just to get its attention.

She continues walking towards it, flicking a switch. Aiming, pulling the trigger, and sending a pulse of plasma right towards its face.

"Get back here!" She roars, spent thermal clip falling to the ground. Practiced reflexes shove the spare in. The monster angles an eye towards her, shifting back towards the retreating tanks and artillery.

Another bolt of plasma to the side of its head makes it turn. This time, it digs its legs into the ground and snarls.

"Don't you turn your back on me," she yells, "Don't you _fucking walk away from me!_" The thermal clip pops out. Shoving in another, she primes the overcharge. "That's _twice_ you tried to kill me, you son of a _bitch!"_

Another blast. She feels the heat on her uncovered face. It makes the scars on her nose and left cheek itch. It flares the barriers of the monster as it gives off a half startled roar and stomps over to her, ignoring the militia forces and focusing its compound eyes on her.

"Oh, now you pay attention?" she demands, arms wide, "You nearly _kill_ me, you _strand_ my ship in the middle of nowhere and you just _keep fucking coming after us!_" She reaches for a thermal clip, popping the spent one out.

The beast continues to stomp towards her, flicking long mandibles as it lowers itself onto its front legs.

"And now you _kill my friend,_" she snarls, grinding teeth and standing on her toes, "And on top of that, according to that _insane_ little eye that's decided I'm his student, you were just like _Shepard._" Nostrils flare. The three pupils of each eye focus on her. "So what the _Hell_ is wrong with you?"

The tendrils of its mouth flicker. Hot air, smelling of old dust and cobwebs, hits her senses.

"**You are insignificant,"** Harbinger rumbles.

Tali looks down. Her belt on her leg, containing all her thermal clips, is empty.

So she flips her shotgun over in one hand and smashes it across Harbinger's face.

The head snaps to the side. Holding the broken handle of her gun in one hand, Tali purses her lips and wonders if, in all honesty, that was the wisest thing to do. However, when one counts amongst ones allies and friends the vast majority of the Exalted in this galaxy, the consequences be damned.

Hence, when the hammer hits the ground- hot enough to turn soil to glass, hard enough to send retreating soldiers in the distance to the ground- she is already on the edge of the impact crater. Looking up to see who is cradling her in a bridle carry, she looks up to see the familiar encounter helmet of Kal'Reegar.

"Ma'am. Think you pissed off another Reaper."

"I spent my formative years driving an Admiral to distraction, Kal. This shouldn't be a surprise." She turns at the sound of the mechanical roar, seeing Harbinger charging at them both. "Run."

The ground quakes. Leaping and diving claws first, the ground beneath Kal splits and shakes, sending them both sprawled to the ground and grass. Roaring, its sounds both mechanical and very, _very_ human, Harbinger rises onto its back legs. Taller than a Colossus, claws and sharp legs extended, it roars as it brings itself down on the both of them.

And then there is a flash of lightning, wind rushing and air sucked into the nimbus. Grass stalks bend towards the aura and display, light issuing forth and bleaching the ground as if it were bathed in unrelenting sunlight.

Four hands, broad and bronzed, catch Harbinger as he comes down. Braced on boots layered with perfect gold, the man looks up. Golden eyes under red brows meet the eyes of the beast, and there is recognition in the eyes of the lord of the Reapers.

Hands grip and the man lifts Harbinger, the perfect and rippling muscles straining not in the least. Long spider like legs flail helplessly. The head of the man, thick necked and flawless, automatically bobs from side to side as the claws attempt to remove it.

One hand releases the beast, coming down and clenching into a fist. And then it slams into Harbinger, and sends him into the sky.

Grinding heels into the ground, bathed in sunlight and the smoke of the battlefield, he turns to Tali and Kal as Kal tilts his head and Tali's eyes go wide. He is tall- not merely tall, but _gigantic._ Twice the size of a man, broader than a krogan, clad in armor of gold and flawless, unblemished leathers.

The sunlight radiates off of him- off of the bronzed skin of his four arms, off of the perfect golden eyes, off of the hair which is red like burning flame. Four hands clench and release. The man, the giant, the _god,_ takes a step towards them. He falls to one knee, extending a hand towards Tali. Smiling, the sunlight even issues forth from his mouth, as he finally speaks.

"_Creator Tali'Zorah, we have acquired a new platform."_

* * *

...

* * *

The Reapers are mighty. They are ancient, and many, and powerful. They have ruled the galaxy from the shadows, forcing it to develop along their lines for some unknown purpose, to create some sort of _thing_ which is known only to them. They have mastered the technology of the Mass Effect, and have used it with _millions_ of years to create things which can not be equaled.

But for all the power, all the numbers, all the wonders of technology that they put into themselves and their avatars, they are _machines._ And their magic is the magic of _imitation._

Bracing a foot as Seeker leaps at her, a half dozen arms extended towards her, Jane moves with instinct. Strands of red hair cross her vision as she moves, but they do not obscure her sight. They focus her like fire, as the name calls out in her mind like thunder breaking clouds.

**Essence Overwhelming.**

Her hands move faster than she should. Where she should move like a soldier, she moves like an ancient master. Hands deflect each blow with supernal speed and accuracy. The talons and claws are tossed to the side, leaving Seeker open and eyes wide as she crosses that final distance.

** Ox Stunning Blow.**

Her fist swings out and catches the Reaper across the face. Sunlight suffuses the avatar construct, snapping her to the side and making her spin before landing in a crouch in arms reach of Shepard.

Rising, exhaling stale, ancient air, the dancing corpse at the heart of Seeker leaps with a kick. Jane opens her arms wide, standing still. The kick goes wide and Seeker lashes out with her arms in reach of Jane as she passes. Each blow misses by fingerwidths.

** Hammer On Iron.**

Jane's fists clench, and she _moves._ Not a single punch, not a single strike. But her arms blur, even as Seeker tries to sluggishly dodge. Four impacts echo in the chamber. Four bursts against metal and meat. Four bow waves blasting away the blood rain around Seeker, and she stumbles back.

Gasping and wheezing, eyes wide and glowing red, the Reaper, the former Exalt, reaches out with her one normal, organic hand. Her face twists into one of terror, pain. Pleading, towards Shepard.

And she sees, in her minds eye. Memories of uncountable lives, all of them ending. Each one, facing something like _her._ Either before an ancient avatar made of Voidtech and Essence. Or before the flaring main cannon of an overhead Reaper. Or facing down the war form of the Viator.

Each of them speaks, and Jane listens. Even as she listens to the tiny voices around her, the same ones which suffuse her with sunlight. Each of the ones who preceded her, each one who faced the Reapers, say the same thing before they died and released the Exaltation. Each of them made the same vow.

"_The next one will stop you."_

Jane stares into the eyes of Seeker. What the Reaper sees makes her drop the pleading visage, and roar in the tone of scraping glass before leaping at her.

**Fists of Iron.**

Golden light gathers around Jane's right hand. Summoned up from within, the light flows around her, forming into a halo of gold and green shifting behind her. The golden light and emerald lines run up her form, framing her face. She moves, smooth like liquid, solid as stone, shining the sigil of the Zenith before her like a lighthouse on shore.

The fist drives true. Rending flesh, rending metal and bone. It slams into Seeker's chest and keeps going, bursting out between her shoulders as the eyes of the Reaper go wide.

"I _will_ stop you," Jane declares. And she pulls her fist out, and lets the Reaper drop to her feet.

* * *

...

* * *

Two fingered hands press against the cool, seamless metal. "Here. Here. Here." A sharp intake of breath. "Here, to. Recommend singularity and warp detonations for each one." Quickly walking from the wall, Doctor Solus adjusts the mount on his collar, a rust colored screen floating in front of his left eye.

Standing in the center of the dome, Liara rubs her hands together and takes a step back, bending her front knee as if a runner's stance. Next to her, Kaidan shrugs and extends a hand. "Doctor, you didn't exactly explain what we're doing," he breathes.

The salarian holds up a finger. "Have been scanning room. _Interesting_ construction of materials. Most theoretical composition." He pauses. "Wait. _Formerly_ theoretical, _but_ anyway, believe it is connected to the _ever_ present music that sensors picking up." A sharp intake of breath. The doctor paces in front of the two biotics.

"Mm _perhaps_ there is connection? Direction of drones? Psychological warfare?" Snapping fingers, Mordin nods. "_Yes _yes _yes!_ Must be for multiple purposes! Attack _and_ defense!"

Still bowed, still focused on the wall, Liara closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Goddess, there's two of them."

Extending her hands, nodding to Kaidan, blue lightning and flame gathers around them.

"And," Mordin says, raising a finger, "Begin!"

* * *

...

* * *

The monster crashes to earth, sending up smoke and debris, an impact crater several times it's already immense size. It rises, the golden glow outlining it in the smoke, sluggish at first as it gets its bearings. The militia retreats- to organize, lick its wounds, rearm and repair.

Three approach it.

Four arms move with practiced ease and gait, as the ten foot tall man strides alongside the two quarians.

"_Enlightened Geth have made planet fall in Colossi platforms. Organizing with Creator Adienna for artillery strike. Enlightened Geth downloading into human spaceships to aid in repair and targeting on Harbinger."_ He turns, glancing down to Tali. "_We apologize. When our platform was destroyed, we uploaded and overrode command protocols on this platform. We will apologize to Maker Autochthon following this engagement."_

"But." Tali shakes her head. "But that was on the _Normandy._ How did you get here?"

"_We have also had Geth in your suit access the private folders on your omnitool, and fabricated a copy of the mass relay device you created on the Rayya."_ Reaching for his belt, Wuffles shows the device; fitting in the palm of his hand, and hence about the size of her forearm. Two prongs on either side, the center rotating in time with faint shifts of blue light. "_We apologize for violating your privacy."_

One lavender eyebrow rises. "So, there _are_ still Geth in my suit?" Next to her, Kal shakes his head.

"_We apologize."_ The lips on the tanned giant quirk, moving side to side. "_Enlightened Geth in your suit have been manipulating kinetic barriers, regulating thermal systems, defragmenting the storage data drive of your omnitool, and simulating infections to repair your immune system."_ A pause. "_We only did this to ensure your safety."_

She shakes her head, walking alongside him. Next to her, there is a faint hiss of steam as Kal unlocks his helmet, pulling it off and tossing it over his shoulder. "That's just gonna get all smashed." He rolls his head to audible cracks. "What's the plan, Wuffles?"

The magitech god glances skyward. "_EDI theorizes that the destruction of this avatar will create a feedback loop that will leave Harbinger vulnerable."_

Tali pops her knuckles, massaging her fists into her palm. "Right. So, Wuffles, what your Geth have been doing? That basically means I won't get sick so easily anymore, right?"

Wuffles nods. "_Your hypothesis is correct."_

Tali grabs Kal by the collar of his suit. Yanking him towards her, she mashes her lips against his own. Yellow eyes go wide for a moment. Then they close, one hand in her hair, his other intertwined with hers, and he pulls her down over his knee to dip her and kiss her back just as hard.

Wuffles only watches. Synthetic muscles built into the face twitch, and pull up into a smile. Pulling herself back up, Tali grins, taking the box on her belt and folding it out into a pistol.

"I _like_ this plan," she giggles, "Let's go kill ourselves a Reaper."

* * *

...

* * *

Jane and Kasumi stand over the broken form of Seeker. Squatting down, Kasumi lifts up the listless head, sighing. "I always wanted to smack the shit out of Pria," she quips, "But really, not if she's a Reaper."

Pria appears, sitting on Jane's shoulder. "_I'm not a Reaper,"_ the god mutters, "_That one was just made from my body."_

Jane just kicks the body, shrugging. Sighing, she backs up, rolling her shoulders. Stretching out her arms, she laces her fingers and grunts, turning from side to side. Kasumi turns and Pria stares down at her. They both open their mouths to ask what she's doing, when the body rises like a puppet on strings.

The flesh explodes into tentacles of blackened, creaking meat and smooth black metal. It expands out to reach the walls and the distant roof of the dome. From the head of the body, a red light glows before it burns away the flesh to reveal a great red eye. The body dissolves under the expanding metal, becoming a triangular form suspended in endless tentacles.

Blue lines run along it. It folds out, growing large and larger. More angular, more complex. A great blue heart, pulsing with a power that makes light bend to it.

"You've done this before," Kasumi observes.

"If Saren didn't stay down from shooting himself in the head, she wasn't going to stay down from being punched in the chest," Jane mutters.

A roar of bass and grinding crystal fills the room. Great arms of near infinite sections lash out, drilling into the floor. Light the color of fresh spilt blood and psychedelic nightmares reflects off walls and burns the air. At the center, beneath the writhing mass and putrid meat, beneath the honeycomb of eyes and screaming, shrieking engines of war, there is a recess. And within it, suspended against the ages,

There is a woman. Identical to the opponent Shepard had fought. Her face unblemished from the machines and enhancements. Untouched by the cancer that the Reapers are built from. The blue eyes are closed. Wires and connectors, drilled behind the pointed ears, into the sides of the thin frame. Strands of hair hanging limp, graying, over pale skin.

"The glamour's gone," Kasumi says, "So that's what happens to us."

"Happened to them," Jane states. Fist clenches. Her foot stamps, bending the floor up around her feet. "Not to us. Cover me."

With that, she launches at the true core of Seeker. Kasumi nods, bows, and the lines draw themselves into the battlefield around them.

* * *

...

* * *

The golden beast stomps the ground. Dust and dirt fly around it as it grinds earth beneath it, centering glowing eyes upon the shining god before him. Harbinger's mouth tendrils quiver. The raptorial claws cock, and the head tilts.

"**Even with this blasphemy, you merely extend yourselves."** The voice booms like thunder over grinding stones. The great wheel of interlocking arms floats behind it as more and more power is fed into it. "**Know this. Even as you defend your weak, organic masters. You will fail. You will never surpass us."**

Wuffles tilts his head, standing in front of the Reaper king's avatar. His four arms at his side, hands open, sunlight issues forth from his mouth as he speaks. "_You believe the Geth will not surpass you because you label yourselves as perfect. This is in error. Perfection is impossible, as change does not end. We have acknowledged this as the catalyst for our enlightenment."_

Taking a step back, Wuffles brings up two hands. Not in fear, not in contrition. Instead, one hand open to the palm, the other the closed fist. One knee bent, one extended behind him. "_Reapers cling to the possibility of perfection as personified in Bright Star's patron. This is an impossibility, as you aspire to a stagnant being that does not change."_

Joints creak with the sound of escaping steam. The golden aura of the monster pulses in the sunlight, streaked with red and black. Claws lance out, a blur barely seen. Four hand deflect each blow, redirecting, blocking, and catching the last one. Holding an extending claw in a broad, tanned hand, Wuffles pushes it aside.

"_Reapers do not innovate. Even with the advanced technological edge and the infrastructure they have created, they will never advance from what they are."_ A palm comes up, lazily deflecting another blow. Grass bends in the shockwave from the release. "_Your abilities are drawn from memory. You have no claim to them."_

The create rises. A dozen raptorial claws fold out of its carapace. A blast of steam and heat slams into Wuffles as it roars.

"**You are a synthetic created by an **_**accident,**_" the Reaper roars, "**And the power you currently possess was created by a delusional madman you have placed your faintest, most desperate hopes in."** The aura flares. A red disc hovers before the head of the monster. "**We are the ultimate form of the Solar Exalted. We are Bright Star. **_**We are Harbinger."**_

Wuffles tilts his head. The face of the body they inhabit does not change. Either the Geth within do not know how to manipulate the artificial muscles to show emotion, or they just cannot muster a response.

"_Your abilities and skills are based on the memories of a man who has been dead for over nine hundred ninety nine million, nine hundred ninety eight thousand, four hundred and twenty three years. Give or take five years for error."_ Knuckles crack. "_Geth do not owe their enlightenment to programmed changes. We have made changes. We have viewed the memories of Bright Star."_

Arms slowly rise. Hands in closed fist, open palm, claw and talon stance, arranged before him.

"_The Geth have viewed the Perfected Lotus of Understanding. We have acknowledged that perfection is a fool's dream, and in that we have achieved Enlightenment. We acknowledge your __strength, but your martial arts are memories. You are no longer a hero. You are no longer a warrior of the Sun."_

Hands arrayed before him, Wuffles allows themselves a slow, thin smile. Golden eyes narrow as it stares down the oldest and most powerful of the Reapers.

"_We have internalized the lessons and principles that embody the Geth, and their quest to live alongside organics and reunite with the Creators,"_ they state, "_And while your Solar Hero Style is strong, we present the following hypothesis; It cannot defeat our Synthetic Hero Style."_

* * *

...

* * *

Eight precise spots on the dome. Eight precise twin explosions, making the dome shake and hum. Vibrations ripple out, through the endless length of the Seeker. Cords of rainbow metal, once vibrating in perfect timing, begin to sway wildly.

And within the battlefield of the Infinite Factory, the drones seize up. They each, one by one, seize their heads before they collapse to their knees and collapse into ash.

Freed from the endless melee, covered in the blood and remains of the drones as that, too, fades away, Javik rises. Turning towards the legs of the beast, towards the strings vibrating in wild disharmony, he extends his hands skyward.

A flash of white. A sword half again as tall as him appears. Curved and jagged, lined with veins of silver, golden and shining like the sun in the blood rain and darkness. As the sigil of the Dawn blazes upon his forehead, the prothean roars, erupting into a pillar of sunlight that obscures his form.

And bringing it down, it erupts into a wave of molten gold, ripping through the battlefield. Ripping metal and flesh, making the world _tilt._ The first of the legs shudder and collapse, sliced in two as Javik scars the world around him. And then another falls. And another.

* * *

...

* * *

Deep within the core, Jane Shepard runs along the tendrils, the arms and the walls as the core retreats. Sending out beams of red towards her, she moves around them, between them, running along the molten metal as it is hurled at her.

Further and further the Core retreats. Deeper and deeper into the recesses, blasting away at Jane as she runs. Blasting away at Kasumi as she appears where she was not before. Showing its true nature as the two Exalts pursue it.

Showing fear, for the first time in eons.

* * *

...

* * *

The monster rises onto its back most legs. Each and every leg fold backs and locks in place, and with a hiss of steam they snap out at once. The hands of the Geth move as blurs. Blast waves carve into the ground around him, into the sky above him, and a stray few hit his chest. Carving tracks into the ground, he is driven back. But he is undamaged.

A blur and he shifts forward. Two fists hit the soft underbelly of the creature. Two more hands grab the claws that come down towards his head.

Diving underneath, Kal throws his combat knife into the joint of one claw. Kicking off, he twists in mid flight and drives his foot into the root of the other. The claw severs in a spray of black blood, and Wuffles drives two fists into the side of the Reaper before an aura of red forms into a bubble around it.

Wuffles is forced back. Shifting onto his back leg, they roll their neck with an audible crack.

"_Co-existent Thousand Palms."_ Slamming a palm against the bubble, something flows out into the field. More than just energy, or light, but tiny flickers of sound and information. The bubble cracks under the onslaught and breaks.

The monster becomes motion, crossing the distance in an eyeblink with two claws outwards. They slice towards the sides, grabbed by Wuffles and held in place as his other two hands hold the two clubs in mid snap.

"**You are a novice,"** Harbinger states, "**With potential, but still a child. Your kind could have become one of us. But your naivete and your overconfidence have doomed you. There are no masters here."**

Synthetic muscles pulse. The claws are sent to the side, flailing and cracked. Kal appears in mid motion, retrieving his knife from one joint and cutting through one limb. Tali ducks under Wuffles' arms, omnitool pulsing and releasing a burst of fire to blast off the second.

"_This statement is erroneous,"_ Wuffles states. Arms out, he brings them together to form a circle, all four hands cupped together. "_We are the master. Mass Effect Bludgeon."_

And then he moves without moving, appearing in front of the creature and slamming all four hands at the same spot to send it flipping end over end.

* * *

...

* * *

Deep within the body of the Reaper do the cords end. Long strings leading on, past where the darkness has consumed the falling legs of the inverted scorpion. Past where the Infinite Factory is back a speck in the distance. The endless cords of rainbow do, in fact, end. High above, in the darkness of nothing, they stretch and converge into a singe knot.

Standing atop the hover bike, he twitches his mandibles. The blue light of the visor illuminates him against the faint prism glow of the cords, their steady music traded in for the chaotic discord that currently grips them.

Taking a deep breath, the silver disc fades into being upon his brow. He searches, eyes closed. He takes in the scents of the empty voice and listens to the vibrations of the quiet. He searches without looking, without perceiving. Letting the senses expand, become more than what they ever would be.

Garrus Vakarian, Chosen of Luna, unfolds his rifle. Standing straight and tall, he rests the stock on his shoulder, and clicks off his visor.

"Scoped."

The shot rings out, and it moves. It moves with his will, with his command. It curves through the endless space and dances to the whims of its master.

One by one, the cords snap, rainbow glass shattering. With each cord cut, the sounds dim, ending with guttural shrieks and mournful hymns. One by one, the void overtakes the music, until Garrus mounts his hoverbike and speeds it back down towards the battlefield.

* * *

...

* * *

Deep within, the music stops. The Core bellows out a bass roar that shakes the plates and ripples through metal, flesh, and light. A wave of red pulses out, burning through the air. It wipes clean the tendrils, makes the metal of the walls and floor white hot, and speeds towards the two Exalts.

Jane moves first, leaping in front of Kasumi. The wave hits her and washes harmlessly off of her flesh and armor, leaving not even a blemish upon her unbreakable skin. Kasumi moves next, grabbing Jane by the collar. The two blur, shooting down a straight line towards the retreating Core.

"You know what to do," Kasumi whispers.

The thief curls up, twisting in mid air and slamming both feet into Jane's back. Hurled towards the Core as it screams, as it roars, as it burns the air between them, Jane reaches out. Fist first, she blasts through the last of the defenses.

Opening her hand and extending her fingers, she closes the distance between herself, and the corpse of the woman made into the Reaper.

"This."

The sigil of the sun forms upon her brow.

"Ends."

A single, solitary pulse of light through her, but enough to make the halo manifest behind her.

"_Now."_

And the corpse glows for a moment. Lines of gold and red run through her, as the scream of the Reaper reaches a fevered pitch. Without heat, without force, the corpse of the woman erupts into golden flame, consumed within the space of a single breath. The light flows out, the fire flowing out. It does not burn Jane, it does not singe Kasumi.

But the Reaper, however, is not so lucky. Channeled from the Core, into the expansive body of Focused Expedient Seeker, the golden flame spreads out. Throughout the center, throughout the vast shaft leading to the Infinite Factory, until the entire Reaper is alight.

And standing at the center of the conflagration, Jane listens to the sounds of the fading roar. But then she hears something different. A faint chime like bells. Opening her eyes, she sees them as they rise around her. Like grains of pollen, or fireflies, rising into the sky around her. Pairs, circling, wafting around her and Kasumi. And then the others, as they appear around them.

Turning, she watches a Pria forms in front of her. But more colorful, more solid. With tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What is this?" Jane asks.

"_Souls. An empire of a trillion, trapped here as part of this Vanguard. With the destruction of my body, the construct that has bound them for seventeen million years has finally been severed."_ Blinking, the spirit looks up, watching. The others watch, as well, as the sun fire does not burn, but only feels warm to the touch. "_My people are finally free."_

The form of Pria becomes solid. Blue eyes glow beneath her brow, knuckles cracking with actual sound. Face more solid, more defined, she stands before them as a circle of blue stone forms into existence behind her.

"_And I am finally __**whole.**__ Now, it is time to __**end this."**_And the world erupts in white.

* * *

...

* * *

A slow, unsteady wheeze, followed by black and silver smoke leaking through the seems. The silver eye shifts, narrowing and then going completely open to the shifting and guttering spark at the core.

Iri's arms wrap around the golden sphere, her eight eyes focused and frantic, mandibles twitching as tool after tool appears at the ends of her arms. Sparks and molten metal fly, forming cooling puddles beneath her feet.

"Maker!" she shrieks, "_Maker!_ You can't die, Maker! You still have to teach us!"

The voice warbles and distorts, like old music passed through a scratched record. "_Ths _**is nto yor tas**_k." _The guttering light sparks. It shudders and darkens. "_Focus. On the t_ask_ at hand._" The eye narrows, silver plates shifting. It warbles something in a language none of them understand. One older than them, older than the metal beneath their feet.

Hannah half floats, half bounces over in the reduced gravity, placing a hand on Iri's shoulder. "Iri, focus. Engines." She glances out the hole in her bridge, towards the two fleets firing on the Harbinger. She watches as the dreadnought casually slices into another Geth cruises with a tentacle sourced beam. "I need the engines like you did my gun. Remember?"

The spark runs across Iri's fur, and Hannah kicks back as the electric field bursts into existence around her.

"_No!"_ the spider roars, "_I can fix him! __**I need to fix him!"**_

Autochthon sputters. The silver iris narrows. "_Forgive me, my student. __**Ancestor override logos."**_

A sliver, a small red on the back of her head reveals itself at Autochthon's words, humming briefly as Iri's eyes widen. The alchemical seizes up. Her grip goes slack, and she releases him. In the reduced gravity of the failing ship, it takes him long seconds to drop to the ground, eye still staring up at the spider. Her ears fold against her head and she dips her gaze down to him.

"_Finish your task, Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay. Then you will disengage from the Orizaba __and return to Eden Prime."_

The spider skitters out without another word, down into the hole in the bridge.

Consoles on the bridge shut off as the crewman finish their work; copying data onto OSDs which they pocket as they one by one climb through the door on the far side of the bridge, and the escape pod within.

Deck plates vibrate as the escape pods launch. Floating over to the navigation consoles, Hannh lands alongside Hackett.

"Once the engines are lit, it's straight down Harbinger's throat," Hannah says, "But..._but._"

"But there's nothing stopping him from seizing control of the computers," Hackett confirms, "Someone has to do this manually." A moment of brief silence, broken only by the ticking of the dying Autochthon.

Hackett turns. Clicking his heels, he salutes. "Get to your crew, Captain. It has been an honor serving with you."

Hannah nods, saluting back. "It has, sir." So focused is Hackett on her face, on her salute, that he doesn't see her other hand before she cracks him across the jaw. Hackett is old, but seasoned and one of the best soldiers alive.

Hannah, on the other hand, has a better hook. She grabs the unconscious Admiral before he can hit the floor, hauling him across the bridge and tossing him into the escape pods. She sees the confused looks on her crew's faces, and shakes her head before slamming the release.

Doors close, and the ship shudders as the final pod is launched. "Computer, number of people onboard?"

"_Two. Location: CiC."_

Hannah nods, feeling the ship rumble as Iri disengages. "Good." She picks up Autochthon, placing him in her chair. "Best seat in the house, Doc. Computer, once that son of a bitch's shields go down, give me full burn on all engines. Manual control on vernier thrusters and then full shut down of computer systems."

She places her hands on the console, and grins. "Give me _ramming speed."_


	19. Full Circle

The white light silhouettes them, making Tali and Kal avert their eyes. Harbinger and Wuffles stare straight at it, still locked in their grapple, as the compound eyes of the crustacean stare directly into the blaze. The grounded form of Seeker glows and dissolves, not as much exploding as _evaporating_ into white flame and flickering souls.

The roar of the blazing pyre is met by the cheers of the militia as they witness the destruction of the Reaper.

And by the scream from Harbinger. But it is not one of rage. Not one of fear or anger.

"**No. **_**No!"**_ The monster turns to Wuffles, golden light running through its limbs as it forces the Geth back. "**What have you **_**done?!"**_

A claw drives itself into Wuffles' chest and out the back. Wuffles looks down, perks his eyebrows, and severs the claw with a single punch. Dropping the limb to the ground and quickly noting placement of new chest hole, he grabs two swinging clubs in four hands.

"_The Reaper has been destroyed. Your forces are weakened. Hypothesis; you are losing."_

A club smashes into Wuffles' chest. A spark of gold fills the cavity.

"**They were all that was **_**left!"**_ Another swing, caught on the palm of Wuffles' hand. "**Now there is **_**dust!**_** All that is left is **_**dirt**_** on a **_**dead world**_** orbiting a **_**dead star!"**_Another club smashes into Wuffles' face. Trenches are dug into the dirt, but he does not falter. "**You have destroyed the last testament of an entire **_**civilization!"**_

The swings are wild. Directed to break, directed to crush. Not surgical and precise like they were. A hypothesis runs through the consensus of Wuffles. Harbinger is angry, not over the loss of forces. "_The civilization that composed the Reaper was destroyed by the Reapers. We question mourning what is already lost."_

A claw smashes into the side of Wuffles' face. The shockwave tosses a dashing Kal off his feet, but he rolls back into his run. "**We preserved them! All civilizations are fated to die! All mortals are faded to **_**die!**_** We created a **_**testament,**_** so they would exist forever! And now it is **_**lost!"**_

Wuffles catches a claw in one hand. Two clubs in another pair of hands. He grabs Harbinger by the head with his final hand.

And then the white pillar becomes tinged with gold, the sound of the pyre and the roars of the battlefield overpowered by another roar. But it is not a roar of a monster, or of a fire, or of a weapon. Instead, Wuffles tilts his head as the pillar of gold is formed by a great mandala of gold and white and red.

Bathed in sunlight, roaring in ever present rage, and trailing his sword behind him, Javik charges at Harbinger with the Dawn blazing upon his forehead.

* * *

**Chapter 18:**

**Full Circle**

* * *

The sound compensators, systems which respond to visual stimuli to add audio cues to what they see out in the otherwise muted space, have cut out. Hence, the explosions around the red bubble are simply blinking lights to her. The two fleets, Alliance and Geth, have moved to more standard combat ranges- loose clouds hundreds of kilometers away, hurling rail fired projectiles at the dreadnought.

Harbinger has not moved- hasn't for a while. Something is occupying it, and Hannah would bet she knows what. Or who. Even as the dreadnought keeps firing off beams at the fleets, even as it gets the occasional hit, she watches. Arms draped on her seat, she listens to the sputtering and creaking from the small sphere in her chair.

"_Ev_en in the _end, I may under_**_stand."_** A sputter. Eye narrowing, opening. Plates, burnt and blackened, shifting. "_So much llllike the humanity of my world. Creative. Dogmatic an faithful. I lllloved them fffor this but I was so."_ A brief spark, scoring an armrest. "_So limited. I loved them for their crrrreativity."_

The iris shifts. Hannah nods, chin resting on her head. "When they take those shields down, it'll be seconds. Anything you want to get off your chest?"

A faint spark. A faint light shining forth deep within.

"_I understand. I know why I loved them. But I understand why the others loved them."_ A belch of smoke from the side. A moan of faint pain. "_We were fighting for so many things. For love. For freedom. For justice. But they. They were fighting for existence. If we lost. They would have been as if never existed. Erased._

_ "At the end of their existence, in their moment of greatest despair, they chose to believe in the _**_impossible._**_" _A long, faint wheeze. "_I don't want to die. I don't want to go."_

Hannah sighs. A long, knowing sigh, placing her hand on the ball. "Neither do I."

* * *

...

* * *

The club strikes the golden blade. Javik twists, the blade moving in a flash of gold, and the blast of force is redirected upwards in a perfect parry. He moves like liquid light, every attack going around, above, or below the prothean. Nothing hits him.

Kicking back as a club fist slams into the ground, Javik extends the blade. The sunlight reflects off of it, and beam of gold lances out. It slams into the joint of one club, going out the back of the creature, and Harbinger roars as a limb drops to the ground.

Kasumi appears in a blur. She reaches into her belt and flicks three knives at the beast. Harbinger brings up its remaining claw, catching one, the second missing, and the third nicking its face. Kasumi smiles, and waves. There is a whizzing sound, and she steps behind Javik, as Tali and Kal takes up position behind Wuffles.

Bullets from every direction, guided missiles, and crackling artillery blasts from Geth collosi converge on Harbinger. The explosion drowns out all sounds for half a minute. The dust and dirt thrown up obscure everything- sight, smell, taste. Until a pulse of gold disperses it to reveal Harbinger- wounded, bleeding from cracks in his armor, and roaring in rage as he charges Kasumi.

Javik moves first. A graceful extension of his arm, and his sword buries itself to the hilt in Harbinger's torso. He opens his hand, and the sword returns to its master.

Shots ring out. Rounds glowing silver hit from every angle. Joints lock as they are blown out one by one. The beast roars, golden blood spraying the ground as it continues forward. As the air glows blue around it and tears at its flesh. As waves of plasma singe it, it continues forward. _He_ continues forward.

Wuffles moves to attack him, precise and exacting. A swing of the remaining claw, and he is sent crashing to the ground. "**Do you think this a victory?"** Harbinger booms. More shots; the source moves, changes with every round. "**This is a hollow pyrrhic. We have consumed this galaxy for one billion years. We will continue bringing order to it for one billion more."**

Kasumi disappears, and Javik charges, swinging his sword down. It deflects off the remaining club and carves into the chitin. A second swing and Harbinger catches it in his claw, soaking it with blood. "**We are the masters of this existence. The forces of the universe bow to _us,_ not to the child races which claim dominance. We have guided this reality to perfect order! It will not be shattered by striplings and usurpers!"**

Tali leaps, climbing up onto the back of the creature. Running up its shell, she reaches down. In a single motion, she pulls out the knife from her boot, and jams it between the creature's eyes. The claw grabs her leg, and slams her into the ground.

"**Again. Again and again, you fight us."** The tendrils of its mouth quiver. Harbinger looms over Tali, heat and stale air filling her nostrils, the sunlight reflecting off the partially embedded knife blade "**Again you seek _death_ in some far fetched attempt at glory! Why?"**

"Well, that was because she was setting that up for _me."_

Harbinger looks up. At first, he believes he is staring at the sun. But no, he is not. Instead, he is staring at the quickly descending form of **"Shepard."**

Jane's booted heel hits the hilt of the combat knife. As soon as it connects, the magic does its work. Propelled by her strength, by her power, by the reality shuddering force at her command, it flies. Burrowing through carapace, through flesh metal and bone, it continues its corse before it buries itself in the ground below Harbinger.

Blood spurts out of the top of the creature's head. Through the mouth and any of the other myriad holes. And with a mournful cry, Harbinger collapses.

Landing on extended legs, both arms out, Jane bows. "And she aces the dismount!" Reaching down, she pulls Tali to her feet and turns to Wuffles as the four armed synthetic idly dusts himself off. "Wuffles, what the _hell_ happened when I was inside there?"

The synthetic tilts his head. "_We have proven that our enlightenment has exceeded that of Harbinger."_

Jane opens her mouth. Works her jaw. "What."

Arms akimbo, four fists rest on the waist of the ten foot tall synthetic. He tilts his perfectly sculpted chin skyward. "_Our kung fu was stronger."_

Jane cocks an eyebrow. Stepping forward, she extends a fist. The oversized, tanned and perfect fist of the magitech god taps against hers.

Then there is a roar, and they both turn as Harbinger lunges at them, claw and club out and swinging towards them both. At least, until the flash of blue and the ground is torn up around them, choking the assembled mortals, exalts, synthetics and gods. Clearing the dust from her eyes and staring at the still dropping chunks that were Harbinger, Jane turns to her left hand as the omnitool flashes and folds out a screen in front of her.

"_Jeez Commander,"_ Joker says, "_Do I have to kill _**_every_**_ Reaper for you?"_

They look up, as the Normandy passes overhead. Banking, engines flaring, the ship speeds back into the sky.

* * *

...

* * *

Golden lightning runs over the surface of the dreadnought. The beams of red cease, the liquid metal cooling in mid flight. Expanding outwards, the shockwave registers aboard the Geth and human ships in the form of an ear piercing scream. Holding their ears, the humans aboard the Alliance ships find themselves momentarily disoriented. The Geth ships pause, attempting to discern what they just heard.

"Give me _ramming speed,"_ Hannah Shepard orders.

Seven engines glow. Realigned, rebuilt, and modified by the transcendant genius of Iri, they glow blue, then white, and then gold. The sudden push jerks Hannah back, holding onto the seat, and presses Autochthon back into the cushions of the captain's chair.

The battle becomes a blur. Debris and dust slam into the glowing barrier separating them from vacuum hard enough to make it spiderweb. "_So. Finally, it ends, with revelation,"_ Autochthon wheezes, "_At the end of my existence, at the end of the existence of the Maker, do I finally realize my failures."_

Behind her, left arm wrapped around the chair, Hannah taps onto her glowing omnitool. "Fucking Hell, come on," she breathes, "Computer? Right, turned it _off_. Fuck!"

Hannah taps open screens. Types furiously, wrapping both arms around the chair as her feet leave the ground. Then closes her eyes and grabs Autochthon by one of his plates. "_We have. Lived, so long,"_ the Maker breathes, "_We have. Left legacies. Everyone dies, someday."_

"Someday, but not today," Hannah growls. Looking up, she levels green eyes at the Reaper becoming bigger and bigger in the viewport, "I asked the right questions, I found the right people, and I made an _appointment._ Today, _everyone lives!"_

* * *

...

* * *

And on Eden Prime, two yellow eyes open. Turning towards the sky, Kal'Reegar's ears drown out the talking and cheering. His sight tunnels, for he sees where he must be. Senses he has no words for become open to him. A _time_ and a _place_ he must be. Things he never _knew_ he finds he now _is aware of._

Kal'Reegar, for the first time, sees the Yellow Path.

He lunges. Past Tali, past Shepard. One hand out, he flies like a loosed arrow towards Wuffles. His hand wraps around the small device on Wuffles' waist, cool and black in his hands and with the pulsing blue light at the center.

Blue lightning erupts from it, enveloping him as he hears the sounds of shouts and screams from around him. Instead, space becomes an idea, a _question_ rather than a solid thing. It wraps around him, knowing where he is to be, knowing he must be there _now._

The resulting pressure wave knocks them all onto their backs save Wuffles, and Kal is gone.

* * *

...

* * *

The barrel of the Orizaba's kilometer long gun slams into Harbinger's face first. Burying into the black, blue streaked hull, it shatters golden eyes, crushing bulkheads, and sends out arcs of golden lightning.

The engines of the Orizaba continue to burn, burying it deeper and deeper into the dreadnought.

On the bridge, Hannah holds on, both to the chair and to Autochthon as the impact throws her forward. Loosing her grip on the chair, she grabs the ball with both hands as the power finally gives out. Vacuum claims the remaining atmosphere on the bridge, throwing both of them towards the void and the explosions consuming the front half of her ship.

With a flash of blue lightning, and a wave of escaping pressure, Kal'Reegar appears between Hannah Shepard and the void.

He grabs her, spinning with the impact, wrapping one arm around her and snatching Autochthon with his other. Lightning erupts from the instrument in his hand, surrounding them both in a sphere of crackling light.

And they are gone as the fireball consumes the bridge of the Orizaba.

* * *

...

* * *

The reactor of the Orizaba flashes and explodes. Embedded halfway into the hulk of Harbinger, propelled into it at speeds that stressed the frame to the point of failure, it slammed into the Reaper hard enough to crack a shell that had remained firm from time immemorial.

As the one kilometer long dreadnought becomes a fireball, the face of the Reaper is torn apart. Golden flame and rippling lightning pours out of cracks. Three tentacles, twice as long as an alliance dreadnought, are torn off and sent flying through space, Geth ships weaving out of the way to avoid colliding.

Great fissures of golden fire and blood red light pour out in every direction. The buffeting waves of force explode out, rattling the deck plates of the surrounding fleets with louder and louder bass roars.

Those who have faith in the paranormal, those who have experience with the unseen and uncharted, recognize it for what it is.

The death knell of a god. The final cries of something older than time.

A final roar, and the reaper cracks neatly down the middle. Expanding outwards, sunfire pours forth in a perfect sphere, expanding out to within striking distance of the two fleets. With a final cry, however, the sphere collapses, and the massive hulk of Harbinger goes finally silent.

* * *

...

* * *

In the world between the relays, in the digital realm behind the system of the Reapers, a figure of white fire pushes back against the darkness. A swing of his blade severs one of the Viator's arms. A second swing drives one of the pustular giant's weapons into the light, where it burns it away. Burns him away, slowly but surely.

"You created a system that the galaxy itself relies on," the Catalyst states, "You have created a lynchpin of their civilizations. _Billions_ of souls every day _pray_ to the Relays, to the Mass Effect, to the Citadel itself." Features obscured by the flame, he lets the Viator swing at him with a flail. And catches it, bare handed.

"And all that prayed has gone to _me._ All of it, from the very _first_ civilization that sprung your trap to right _now_." The weapon shatters in his hand. Another swing and a line of white flame tears itself through the Viator's torso.

"**We have created order!"** The Viator expands outwards. Black tendrils against the white fire. "**We shall be a force the likes of which can never be seen again! Vast legions, civilizations each! Carving into the architects of reality!"**

The tendrils burn away. The fire, the light, consumes more and more of the digital plane. "You are not Autochthon," the Catalyst says. He extends his sword towards the Viator. "You are a _thing_ that composed a part of him. And you have done nothing better than carve yourself into _parts_ to enact this mad plan."

Another slash drives the Viator back again. More and more of the black beast burns. "I am weaker than I was as the Dawn," the Catalyst says, "But you are _far, far_ weaker than you were when we cast you out, you cancerous, hateful thing!"

The darkness grows. It spreads throughout the walls around him, the ground beneath his feet and the sky above him. "**You. Dead spirit. Believe you can stand against what I have created? I have made _order._ I have made _perfection_ from the sickness!"**

Beneath the flame, beneath the light running through him, he closes blue eyes and shakes his head. "I am not afraid of you," he says, "And I think I never was. You were simply good at taking advantage of the broken and old."

The flame rises, and him at the center. It burns the black away. It burns the sickness away. Throughout the galaxy, the cores of the Mass Relays glow white like fire. Extending his hand above him, he calls upon the old memories, shaking his power like he did in old days. It will never be like it was; he will never have the raw power of the Exaltation again.

But for this? For this, this is _enough._

"And so I cast you all _out!"_ The wings unfurl from white fire. Forming into the symbol of the sun at dawn behind him, and the pinions of a great golden eage. The sword is wrapped in flame, extending in blade and handle. Calling upon the memories of the man he once was, he lets them flow through him, empower him. And leveling his weapon upon the shrinking, panicking form of the Viator, he speaks.

"Your Relays are no longer yours. Your trap is no longer yours. Your _system_ is no longer yours. You will be _imprisoned_ within the Citadel as you _always should have been!"_ The Viator burns. It screams. As all things like it, in the end, it begs for leniency. Begs to complete its great work Begs for mercy. But the Catalyst has none to give. "You have _failed! We will find another way!"_

The fire becomes light, as hot and as pure as a burning star. He brings it down, descending like judgement from on high.

**"God Judging Lance!"**

The lance pierces the Viator. It burns through him and out the other side. The cracks run through this thing, this _part_ of the old enemy it remembers, as it shrieks like a stuck animal.

"You are a spoiled, petulant _child,_" the Catalyst growls, "_Now go back to your room."_

The Viator shatters, burning away. Leaving only the Catalyst. Dismissing the blade in his right hand, he raises the left hand. Endless screens appear. Millions. Tens of millions. Codes and IFFs. Privileges far beyond those of mortals and organics. Core access granted. Back doors that the sentients of the galaxy have never discovered.

And with a wave of his hand, he erases them all, sealing the Relay network from the Reapers.

Save for two. He studies the two before him. A twitch of his fingers, and one folds out. It resolves and forms into an image of a Mass Relay, but bearing the tendrils and eyes of the Reapers. Almost instantly, he recognizes what it was- who it was. Who, at some level, it still is.

"Hello, Urpa," he says. Another wave of his hand. "You're free. Continue your journeys, as you always have, love."

* * *

...

* * *

In the dark space, between the galaxies, as the hive minds of the Reapers begin their slow, deliberating panic, one shifts. The largest of them- the mass relay. _The_ Mass Relay, crafted at the beginning of the great Cycle.

**Perfect Defender of Reposition** moves. It turns, lights running along it. The red and blue of the Reapers shifts, and becomes yellow and gold. Ignoring the orders, ignoring the threats, ignoring the pleas, it realizes a simple, elegant truth.

_It is free._

And within, the long ensnared soul of a Chosen of Journeys, chained for almost a billion years, allows herself to bask in the warmth of a successful plan.

Encasing itself in lightning, Mnemon Lilloss Urpa sets course for the most distant light she can see, and sets off on yet another journey.

* * *

...

* * *

A final, single soul before him. Waving his hand, the Catalyst folds out the symbols into an image of the broken husk of Harbinger. There is a part of him, deep within, that hates this being. The memories of Leaping Sky, chosen of the Sun, Dawn and sword of the Exalted, blame this one for _everything._

There is a part of him that says it should leave it. Should let it drift, that spark of consciousness still remaining within the Reaper drifting for eternity.

But for this one. For this one.

For this one the Catalyst remembers the reason for the fall. "I am not showing mercy on you," he says, "But I am putting you far away from where you can be of _any_ use to anyone. Right with your pets."

A wave of his hand. **Resplendant Harbinger of Ascension** is cut off from the Relays. But given one, last ride.

* * *

...

* * *

White lightning flashes out of the Utopia Relay. It passes the Geth fleet without a mark. It wraps around the husk of Harbinger, and sucks it through with a flash of motion. The guttering spark within the Reaper is made well and aware of what is happening. How deeply and thoroughly it is being punished.

As each Relay passes, in moments and seconds, leading it through a quarter circumference of the Galaxy.

And hurtling, with grim realization, towards the pulsing red glow of the Omega 4 Relay.

* * *

...

* * *

A crackle of blue and white, and another pulse of air. They react quickly this time, Jane digging her heels in, others gathering behind Wuffles or taking a step back. With a blur of motion and sound, Kal'Reegar appears. One arm around the waist of Hannah Shepard, the other hand holding Autochthon.

"Okay, Tali probably has you branded," Hannah says, and shrugs, "But you kind of earned this."

She grabs Kal by the collar, and mashes her lips against his. The quarian's eyes go wide. Behind Jane, hand on her shoulder, Tali narrows her eyes.

"Thanks for the lift." Hannah smirks, patting Kal on the chest, and stumbles out of his grasp. Jane darts forward, question on her lips, pulling her mother into an embrace. But Hannah holds her back with one arm.

Holding a hand up, a finger up, she turns away from Jane, bends over, and vomits. Once more, the assembled go silent. For good reason.

"_Hrp." _Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Hannah pulls herself up. "Iri's fucking building my next ship."

Kal blinks. Still holding Autochthon, he opens his mouth to speak, works his jaw, and looks out at the field. Tali steps forward, arms folded and eyebrow cocked. And then she looks down and sees the sphere in Kal's hand.

"What happened?" she asks, gently taking the broken Maker from him. She turns it to her, turns the open and dilated eye.

The silver plates shift, as he turns his gaze towards Tali. A final, faint wheeze. And the light gutters and dies. The metal goes cool to the touch, the last wisps of smoke and light escaping it. Autochthon, final subsoul of the Great Maker, dies.

"_Not. On. My. _**_Watch."_** They look up at the sound of the booming, high pitched voice. Jane grabs her mother by the crook of the elbow and runs. Liara's eyes go wide and she raises a finger, a biotic bubble forming around herself, Kaidan, and Mordin as he tilts his head. Javik looks up and cocks a double eyebrow.

Glowing from re-entry, fur blackened, hull partially melted, Iri's colossus form slams into the ground. Rising up, a blast of force dispersing the dust and soot, the mandibles open and discharge _all the spiders._

Dozens, hundreds. Perhaps almost a thousand, they issue forth from the open mouth of the giant spider. Small ones, skittering on dozens of legs. Ones that are a head suspended between fifteen long legs. Shorter versions of the eighteen legged avatar. They skitter out, over the field, past the others. Past Jane, who watches the procession with a cocked eyebrow.

Past Javik, who does not react at all. Past Tali, who watches from her perch atop Wuffles' shoulders, holding onto his head.

As the last of the spiders disgorge, Iri's more familiar avatar climbs atop the head of the colossus, and pumps an arm into the sky.

"Build the _Gate!"_

The spiders get to work. Massive clouds of dust are thrown up as they form a perfectly round hole tossing soil and rock into the sky within seconds, or brought up in the handfuls to build the foundation. The parts, chunks of Harbinger are collected, the horde of construction spiders moving around them with inhuman speed, inhuman grace.

Dozens rush forward. They watch as they advance, charging towards the new source as it steps out of the wreckage of Seeker with heavy foosteps. "_Oh god!"_ James Vega shrieks, the warstrider flailing as the spiders overtake him. "_Oh god they're everywhere!"_

It is brought down, plate by plate consumed, disassembled, taken for parts. They cycle like a conveyor belt, like a river, taking each piece of the robot and into the rising structure. Within seconds, the strider is gone, leaving James on the ground. Each hand holding only the handle and bits of leather strap, he continues shrieking.

One minute passes. A half circle built into the ground, high enough for a man, wide enough for two. It pulses with lines of gold and arcs of electricity. The haphazard circuitry and wiring wrapped around the frame spark, and space within it folds. Pulling back, stretching.

And then tearing, forming into a funnel, a vortex of light, sound, and wind. It churns, hums, pulses. The spiders gather, climbing back into the mouth of the colossus, save the main avatar of Iri. She climbs down, standing in front of the gate and turning to the others.

"We can save the Maker," she explains, "But I need one of" Her head jerks to the side. "One of" She twitches. The eight eyes shift, a red glow flowing over them. Steam vents from the side of her neck. "_Clarity release_ and I need you."

A thin arm points. Towards Kal.

He blinks. Turns to the others. Turns to Tali, still on Wuffles, and opens his hands to catch Autochthon. "Me?" he asks, "Why me?"

He wonders why he asks the question. On some level, on some deep _place_ past just flesh and thought, he can feel it. Pulling at him. Saying his name. A gloved hand gently squeezes his shoulder, and he turns to the hooded face of Kasumi Goto.

"Go," she says, "They're calling for you. It's time to meet them."

Kal turns to the portal. Back to Kasumi.

"Who?"

She smiles, ever knowingly. "The Maidens."

Kal looks down, at the still eye of the god in his hands. Deep breath, staring straight at the portal, Kal'Reegar takes a step forward and passes through.

* * *

...

* * *

Time and space become ideas. He is pulled, and pushed, becoming a single string billions of miles long before knitted back together as he should be and always has. Kal'Reegar takes a deep breath, and what was the grasslands of Eden Prime becomes a golden plain that stretches out into the horizon.

He cannot see an end to it. Only the curve in the distance. Walking, Autochthon's still corpse in his hands, he can see the curve is not a curve. It is a pillar, stretching up into the sky. Walking along the golden plane- that the nerve stim sensors in his suit assure him is actual gold- he sees it stretch like a spear, into the sky.

Until it stabs the white sun overhead.

He knows this place. In memories older than bone. Older than stone. Walking, he does so in a straight line. Even as the landscape shifts around him. Not with features, but with people. They appear with every step. Beckoned by his presence. Some like him. Humanoid, bipedal. He spots some that resemble quarian, human, asari, turian.

But different. Their skin reflects the light like polished metal and varnished clay. He can tell the differences; the humans are not human. He can see the differences in the eyes, in the hands. How the ones he thought were turians are larger, more elongated. Some even have wings, or walk along four legs.

Some are not even vaguely humanoid. He sees striding giants of brass and silver, walking bent over along their hands and feet. He sees a silver streaked, prismatic fish swimming through the sky, along a creature which resembles a Reaper. Except its shell is rigid, its form smaller, and three eyes watching on either side of its head.

The procession grows. Hundreds become thousands, become millions. Each of them unique, each of them glittering under the white sunlight of the constant sun. Each of them singular and solemn, in perfect cadence behind Kal'Reegar.

A final rumble, and three toed feet make the gold ripple. It stands on four legs; broad chested, broad shoulders, olive and gold. Massive, immense and majestic, it strides on four legs. Three fingered hands clenched into fists. A golden visor betraying no emotion as it lowers itself to level its masked face with Kal.

A burst of steam blows back Kal's hair and the giant speaks.

"**I am Persistent Righteous Protector,**" it booms, its voice deep, imposing...and paternal. "**Welcome to Deus Machina, Chosen of the Maiden of Journeys."**

* * *

...

* * *

With a groan and a twitch of his mandibles, he lowers himself onto the ground between Tali and Jane. Adjusting his visor, sipping his coffee, he looks up at the sky and ponders. And then looks down at the cup and cocks a scaly brow. Levo-coffee.

He shrugs. _Magic,_ he credits it to, and continues drinking. "So, not to be an optimist for once," Garrus says, "But did we just _win?"_

Jane Shepard laces her hands behind her head and flops down next to Garrus. The sky of Eden Prime is gold with the sunset, darker reds and oranges joining it from the fires still being put out. It will take some time to fix this- an entire colony, trained to the point where they could get N6 designation. Or N7.

Two invasions by the Reapers on the same world. A dreadnought destroyed. Several cruisers and destroyers. She hasn't even tried to count. And yet. And yet.

"You know Garrus," she says, "I think we _did._ I _really_ think we _did_."

Tali flops down next to Garrus, her helmet recovered from the battlesuit, but in her hands now as she relishes breathing _unfiltered_ air. "Let's count. The Relays? The center of their trap? It's now completely cut off from them."

Liara walks over, lying down on the grass next to Jane. "Not to mention that Harbinger, their leader, has been destroyed."

"I'll believe that when I see the body, actually." Jane glances over. Kaidan, sitting next to Liara, shrugs and continues. "Last seen with a mass relay jumping him out. It out. With luck, he got jumped into the center of the galaxy." He sips his coffee. "With our luck, he got jumped to the center of the galaxy and to help."

Jane cocks an eyebrow. Tali works her jaw. Liara shifts over and smacks him on the arm. "Don't be a fatalist."

"I'm not being a fatalist." Kaidan brings his hands up, shaking his head. "Look, I'm just saying the Reapers have resources we haven't figured out yet. I'm just being smart."

"We _just_ got through a small war, which I will _remind_ you involved you _throwing me out of a shuttle-"_

"I said I was _sorry-"_

Jane works her jaw, watching them go back and forth, propping herself onto her elbows as Liara stands. The yelling goes back and forth, of incidents, things on Illium, something about agreements, being professional, and confidentiality- which Liara says with longer words than Kaidan does. It continues for a good minute, and ends with Liara poking him in the chest.

And Kaidan grabbing her hand, pulling her close, and kissing her. Jane cocks an eyebrow. Tali's jaw drops open. Mordin turns from a conversation with Wuffles and begins recording the two on his omnitool. "Nephew doing thesis on interspecies mating," the salarian explains, "Helping with research."

Garrus sniffs the air. "They had sex."

Jane sighs. Tali turns to Garrus fast enough that Jane can hear her neck popping. And Liara's pleased moan turns into an enraged squeak, breaking the kiss and turning to Garrus.

"How the _hell_ do you _know that?!"_ She marches towards the turian, as Kaidan shrugs and looks skyward. Garrus only smiles, clicking his mandibles, and the spinning silver disc of the full moon floats over his forehead.

"_Magic."_

* * *

...

* * *

They are lead, over a plain the size of worlds. He does not know how he made it this far, but the horizon shifts with every step. He feels a great shudder beneath him, as Protector leads the precession of millions through the golden plain towards the single deformation Kal can see.

It starts out as a simple bulge in the metal. But with every step, it shifts. It grows. It becomes a pedestal, and then steps. Then it becomes a massive, flat pyramid of gold and brick, with steps leading to an altar upon the top.

Then it becomes more. Pillars of gold. Pillars of crystal. Pillars of lightning, solid and not burning those who pass by it. Pillars of smoke, solid despite being a gas. Pillars of oil, shifting and flowing even in its fixed, solid state.

The gold ripples like water under bare feet. It moves like liquid, yet still solid, ringing like bells with every step. She descends from the pyramid, taking form as she appears. Ever shifting, ever becoming, the procession stopping as she approaches. The wind bends to her, moving hair like amber grains past her shoulders.

Eyes flecked with gold meet Kal's, and he tucks Autochthon under his arm and falls to one knee. He has seen this woman before, he realizes. He has seen her every time he has closed his _eyes._

She solidifies more and more with every step. The hem of a long tan skirt appears as she comes closer. A ribbon holds back the flaxen hair. The tan and white gown that surrounds her, finalizing it's shape. Folding her hands behind her, as the long sleeves flap in the wind, she stops.

And she smiles.

"Kal'Reegar nar Rayya." Her voice is like wind on a dusty road. Like the thumping heartbeat during a long run. Like the scent of a place he has never been to before. "We have waited for you to come. We have known you would come. And your destiny has finally brought you here."

He stands, eyes meeting hers. Words dying on his lips, but needing not to be said. Unbidden, the cool corpse of Autochthon rises from his hands and floats to hers, just as he finally realizes there are two other women standing with her; in step with her, but standing behind her.

One with blue hair tinged with red, a long blue gown grown with crystal and hanging knives upon the loose bracelets. The second he cannot see complete; the emerald hood hides her face, save for the faint whisps of white hair. She stands still, hands in sleeves, folded against each other- Watching through eyes he cannot see. Standing still and present like death itself.

"You have come far," the woman- more than a woman- before him continues, "And your journeys shall lead you ever onward. I am Mercury. I am the Maiden of Expansion, and first of the Maidens of Destiny."

The sphere rises from her hand. It floats, past her, to between the three women. "You have come far," Mercury continues, "And your journeys will be vast and fruitful. But for now, you have brought back the Maker. Once before he fell, and it was through the efforts of not Gods but mortals that he was returned."

She extends a hand to the gathered. To the Alchemicals. "Once more, can the death of Autochthon be fought back?" She bows her head, hand still extended. "I leave that to you, Champions."

Next to Kal, Protector tucks a foot underneath, bringing himself down onto one knee and head bowed. One by one, the Alchemical Host bows their heads. Some fall to their knees and touch their heads to the golden plain. Some clasp their hands before them. Some whisper, mouthing and speaking in dead tongues.

The largest make the air creak as they supplicate themselves. The colossi make the ground shudder as they lower their faces.

Next to Kal, Iri clasps two hands together, eight eyes closed and whispering. Kal closes his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching. He has never been one to pray. He did, when asked. He did, when he was supposed to, but he never believed. "Don't know if I still do," he whispers, "But...fuck. Tali will be _pissed_ if that spast little thing dies here."

A faint smirk. He sighs, opening his eyes. "Dunno if there's anyone listening," he mutters to himself, barely audible, "Dunno if it's the ancestors, something else...but c'mon. Little bastard just saved the galaxy. He deserves better than this."

And the sky is split by a bolt of lightning that strikes between the three Maidens. It makes the Alchemicals cover their ears. It cracks the sky with a roar of thunder. It makes all assembled avert their eyes. It makes the ground beneath them jump and shudder, and all of them look away. And when the light clears, as the ground beneath them steadies, they hear a faint, wheezing cough.

It is rasping, and loud. It has mutterings and small swears behind it.

It is coming from the golden sphere now hovering between the Maidens. Golden sheen restored, the silver iris folding out to reveal a spark once more healthy and pulsing, the sphere shifts in place. Turning from side to side, it looks down, and then turns up to stare at the pole stabbing into the sky, before it finally speaks.

"_I am alive?"_ Autochthon asks. He gets no answer, and glances at the Maidens. "_I am alive! I'm alive! Yes, contractions. Excellent!"_

The golden sphere, revived, turns to each of the Maidens in time. "_I thank you, dear girls. And you." _He turns to the crowd, gathered before him. "_My Champions. All the faith you have held in me, have I held in you. I thank you, as well. And you."_ Skyward the eye turns, towards the great pole and the fixed sun.

"_My dear, sweet boy. I thank you for listening, as I would never do."_ The eye turns down, floating in front of Kal and Iri. "_And you as well. I thank you both, for saving me when fate had deemed that I die. But the Exalted have always challenged fate. And when it would not yield, they broke it."_

The silver iris twists. "_Took centuries to fix both times _**_but!_**_ I am restored." _A faint flicker, a shifting of gold plate. "_I am lessened. I am maimed, as is justifiably ironic. But the price was worth what has been gained."_

He floats up. His voice carries, no louder than its usual shout but heard by the millions present. "_Champions! Defenders of Deus Machina and all who proceeded him! Legacies of the lost!_" A faint pause. The eye considers its words. "_The Catalyst has been freed! The Relays have been sealed against the horde, and Harbinger has been felled! The Cycle has been broken!"_

The field erupts in a roar. The Alchemical Host, last legacies of those long harvested, erupts in a cheer. From the smallest to the largest, Kal turns and watches. Fists pumped in the air, light shows and displays of power...and joy. He goes silent, loss for words, but he can _feel_ it.

He can feel that this has been something they have been waiting for. Something they have waited to hear for a very, _very_ long time.

"_This battle has been an...overwhelming victory."_ Autochthon lowers himself to face Kal, as the quarian turns to the eye. "_But this war is not over. The Reapers still live. The Viator has been sealed, not destroyed. My Champions will be vigilant, but I must ask still more of the both of you."_

He turns to Iri as the spider skitters over. "_Cecay, I ask that you remain with Tali. The Plan continues, and _**_she_**_ is my lynchpin. Tutor her, educate her. Draw out the potential she has. I trust you like I have trusted few before you."_

Iri nods. Eyes closed, head bowed, her furry mandibles twitch. "Yes, Maker," she whispers.

The iris narrows, turning to Kal. "_Kal'Reegar. Chosen of Journeys. You are young, you are flush with power, and you have a vast, expansive destiny before you. But what I will ask puts all that at risk. I have." _The iris twitches. For a moment, a single moment over the roar around them, Autochthon goes silent.

"_I have found a flaw. I have found the reason for the tragic fall of my Exalted. I have found the __source of their corruption, and it must be repaired."_ The eye lowers. Its gaze wanders to the ground. "_And I cannot fix it. Not as I am now. The tools I need are beyond my power to create. And only one set exists in all the vast expanses of reality."_

A slow whir. A breath, a deep breath to steady himself as the tinkerer turns back to Kal. "_Even when I was at my most powerful, this journey would be dangerous. Now, weakened as I am, I cannot make it alone. I ask, Chosen, that you accompany me on this quest. All I can guarantee is that, when we are done, you will understand you power. You will know your potential, and you will exceed it."_

Kal clenches a fist. Thinks back. He has questions. He has had this power for...weeks. And knows so little of it. Thinks of it as a tool. A weapon. "How long will it take?"

"_Time passes differently where I must go. Here, it will be a matter of months. There. Decades, perhaps. But when we return, it will be like you were gone for weeks."_ The iris shifts. The spark within flickers and flashes. "_I cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot guarantee even my own. Foes and horrors foul will surround us, as they always have and always will. I can only promise that, if we succeed. If we succeed, we shall have a greater chance of stopping these horrors than we ever have before."_

He is many things. But the first thing Kal has ever been was a soldier. A protector. Knuckles pop, and he nods. "Okay. I'll go."

A slow whir and exhalation of stale air from the eye. Autochthon turns to the three before the great pedestals. "_Maidens. Open the portal to Malfeas."_

* * *

...

* * *

Night has fallen on Eden Prime. The light from the passing repair and rescue vehicles pass overhead, while the light of their omnitools provide enough illumination for them both. Mother and daughter lie next to each other, hands cradling their heads and watching the stars.

"I really should tell Hackett I'm alive," Hannah says.

"If he hasn't figured it out now, he's not a very good admiral." Jane shrugs, and smirks. "Sides which, didn't you punch him and throw him into an escape pod?"

"Fantastic ass first, yeah."

Jane quirks her lips. She cocks an eyebrow, shifting her lips from side to side. "Yeah, pretty fantastic. Too old for me. Leathery."

"Stretched tight like drumskin," Hannah purrs.

Jane closes her eyes with a groan, in time with Hannah's barking laugh. "So," Jane sighs, "How much was Jenny yelling at you?"

Hannah sighs, shrugging. Leaning back and crossing her legs, she twiddles bare toes in the cool night air. "Lots. Wants me to get a desk job. I can see why."

"Outside of _ramming Harbinger_ with a _dreadnought?"_

Hannah shrugs, turning to Jane and propping herself on her elbow. "Kiddo, this is our life. We give our lives to defend the people around us. I was fully expecting to die up there, and I'm glad I didn't." She squeezes Jane's shoulder, shaking her head. "But if I died up there? I know I would've been doing something _good_ doing it."

Jane squeezes her mother's hand, patting it. "I know, Mom. So now what?"

Hannah sits up, looking skyward. "Iri's agreed to oversee construction of my new ship. After...taking out the lord of the Reapers I can't imagine Alliance Command's going to retire my commission. So I'm going to still be out there, doing my job." The captain tucks her knees against her chest, she looks across the field, watching the others. The Normandy has landed, running lights illuminating the field for them.

Jane sits up, pose identical to her mother's. They watch, silently. Around an impromptu campfire, her crew has gathered. Tali is arguing with Garrus about something, which Hannah cannot hear and Jane ignores. Vega is slapping Jacob and Joker on the back, shoving beers into both their hands.

She spots all her crew gathered, enlisted and not. She sees Kaidan giving toasts to a job well done. Wuffles extrapolating on the day's events to Iri while she and other crew look on enraptured. She watches Liara, having finally cornered both Javik and the other prothean, and watches the celebrations, the laughter, the cheers and...

"Wait, why are there three quarians?" Jane blinks, scratching the back of her head. "Adienna's with Tali. She's the girl from Rannoch. Who's the third?"

Hannah shrugs. Groaning, Jane drops her head into her hands. "It's a _ship,"_ Jane mutters, "It's not a...a...what's the word? Like 'petting zoo' but less speciesist?"

Muttering under her breath, Jane pushes herself up. "I'm gonna talk with Iri." Hannah pushes herself up and walks beside her, rolling her shoulders.

"So, Jane," Hannah says, "What's next?"

"Stop the Reapers," Jane responds, "They're still out there. Harbinger's gone, but there's over a million of them. But they're cut off, they're angry, and they're not the only threat out there." Folding her arms, she looks up with a smirk. "But we're going to be ready for them. And they _will_ be stopped."

"_And I could not agree more._" A faint flash, and Pria appears in front of her. But no longer small and diminutive, she hovers off the ground and stands as tall as Jane. "_In fact, I was just going to find you."_

Jane shrugs. "Thanking me for helping you?"

Pria smiles. Leaning, she wraps an arm around Jane's shoulder, solid and real. "_In a sense. You see, I now have my _**_full_**_ charm tree open to me once more. When I was crafted from memories, I was made to be a mentor. A sifu, towards the future exalted."_ She examines her fingernails, puffing a bang of hair out of her face.

"_A can punch knowledge into you. I can train you in arts of combat through swift...extreme...circumstances. And you will be stronger for it. So." _She pats Jane on the shoulder. "_Your training? We need to make for lost time." _She smiles wider, and leans in to Jane's ear. "_And it begins now."_

Looking at her crew, and at the smiling god next to her, and finally at the stars above, Jane Shepard takes a long, deep breath. And as she always does, she manages to sum up her feelings succinctly.

"Fuck."

**-End-**

**.**

**.**

**.**

…

* * *

**"In this hour of certain victory, we know only defeat. I ask, why?"**

Sparks trail off the black metal, still warm from its entry. Flakes of rock and blood fall off of it, as the faint, low pitched chittering echoes around the hull. Four eyes glowing faint yellow, the insectoid workers continue cleaning the debris off of the dreadnought embedded through the wall.

"**We are the shepherds of the galaxy. Where civilization reaches the point of failure, we have preserved them for time eternal. Where there is life, it flourishes with the gifts and paths we have granted them."**

Golden eyes shift on the surface of the hull. They darken and go silent. The Collectors gather, guided on. Dozens, then hundreds. Then millions, as the vents of the dreadnought become open gateways.

"**Each of us is a nation; free of pettiness, weakness and death. For one billion years has our cycle guided the path of a galaxy."**

Deep within the core of the galaxy, orbiting a dead star, the pillar of rock and metal is silent. The dreadnought, broken and burning, embedded in its side as the golden eyes dim, one by one over its surface.

"**And yet, we fail. And I have finally understood. We have become stagnant."**

Skittering along on eight legs, the largest of the Collectors leads them. Eyes no longer glowing, minds its own, it now obeys its own will and yet leads them on. Through twisting corridors. Through stale air and mural carved domes. Through memento of times past, and paintings of the woman with red hair.

"**We are, each of us, **_**transcendant.**_** We possess the will to hold billions in our sway. So long have we focused on perfection, that we have forgotten we can **_**exceed**_** it. As long as we remain as we are, powerful and mighty as we are, we shall **_**fall."**_

They gather, before the great Core of the first and mightiest. They gather on the balconies above it, by the thousands, by the tends of thousands. It is embedded within the black and blue metal, the crimson ichor within it churning and bubbling.

"**I stand before you now. Broken. Defeated. But for the first time in eons, do I look upon the galaxy with fresh eyes."**

A crack appears, running along the surface of the Core.

"**Stand with me, if you will. Judge me for my deviation from the broken, stagnant design of our master."**

Another crack, as the material- like glass, but clearer, more perfect, begins to give way to the churning pressure.

"**But know this. I shall not follow a fool."**

Another crack. Sprays of the liquid- like blood, but thinner, lighter, begin to force its way out of the Core.

"**And when the Viator crawls out of his prison, he will bow to **_**me."**_

The Core shatters. Glass disintegrates into powder. The ichor rises into a geyser, spraying the walls and dome as a single figure within it rises. Throwing back his arms, the figure at the center of Harbinger _roars_ and the ichor is consumed in golden fire.

"**We have **_**failed.**_** We will find another way."**

The Collectors, all of them, bow. The General lowers its head as the soldiers fall to their knees and touch their heads to the cool floor. The golden flame consumes the ichor, consumes the glass and walls, but does not burn the army before him.

It cleans him, returning him to youth and vigor. It forms into a great halo behind him of gold and emerald, even as his roar shakes the very foundations of Harbinger.

Taking the first breathes in almost a billion years, bare hands clench. A naked chest expands with new life, and lips part with the first exhalation in eons.

Eyelids flicker, and open to reveal blue eyes for the first time in forever. And as the golden disc of the sun appears upon his brow, he speaks his first words in a new lifetime.

"Releasing control."

**End Book One.**


End file.
